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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27565570">Hard To Handle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_1701/pseuds/Anonymous_1701'>Anonymous_1701</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fred Astaire &amp; Ginger Rogers Movies, Fred Astaire - Fandom, Ginger Rogers - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Forbidden Love, Idiots in Love, Infidelity, Inspired by Real Events, Old Hollywood - Freeform, Partners to Lovers, Wish Fulfillment, golden age of hollywood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:01:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>50,366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27565570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_1701/pseuds/Anonymous_1701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>STORY FOUR - Things are coming to a head for Fred and Ginger. Deciding if they should be together or apart, they make a momentous decision.</p><p>"I'll be hard to handle<br/>I'm making it plain<br/>Now just be a dear <br/>And scram out of here, 'cause I'm going to raise Cain."</p><p>- By Jerome Kern &amp; Dorothy Fields</p><p>Follows the movie "Roberta" from 1935.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fred Astaire &amp; Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Escape from LA</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Day One – October 29, 1934</p><p>Ginger motored north out of Los Angeles; her vision partially obscured by the tears that coursed down her cheeks. She was not the kind of woman who usually cried but a whole long line of event after event had finally pushed her over the top and wore her down. Hot tears fell onto her lap, unnoticed. She tried to distract herself by enjoying the sensation of driving all alone where no one knew where she was. There were no telephone calls, no assistant directors telling her where to go, no makeup artists transforming her into a movie star, no boyfriends or lovers demanding anything from her and no mother telling her what she could and couldn’t do. She began counting to one hundred in Pig Latin to distract herself from all her chaotic thoughts and began noticing what was going on around her rather than what was going on within her. All through the San Fernando Valley, she could see house and business construction going up, plowing under the agricultural valley and turning it into a suburb. As she hit Newhall Pass, the gateway into and out of the Valley, her cousin’s car chugged slower up the grade and she shifted to a lower gear. The low grumble of the heavy engine seemed to reflect her gloomy mood. She roughly wiped the wetness from her cheeks as Los Angeles and its suburbs receded in the rear view mirror. </p><p>Crawling through the dry, desiccated California landscape, she had enough time to think without interruptions. She rarely got time to herself, and as she drove, the tense tightness of her muscles softened, and she stress fell away with every mile under her tires. Her shallow breathing returned to normal. The further she went, the more her underlying sunny disposition returned. </p><p>Why did things have to be so complicated though? All she wanted, really, was good work and someone to love. Instead, she had three men who were each troublesome in their individual ways, invasive family members, and a job that was complicated and all-consuming. Not that she minded hard work. She honestly loved every aspect of acting. She’d wanted to be an actress since she was a child, and now she had a dream career. If she committed herself to a job, then she gave it her all and that was the only way she knew how to work. If you were going to do it, then do it; she would never deliver some half-assed effort. No, work was fine. It was all the rest of it that was driving her nuts. </p><p>She was beginning to resent her mother’s constant interference in her work life and her personal life. The problem was, though, was that Lela was right a good deal of the time. Lela was building her own professional presence at RKO as a mentor to young contract payers. When she read a script and said it was good, it usually was and when she said it was of poor quality, it absolutely was. When Lela suggested she push for changes in a script, those changes always made the story better. No, she couldn’t really resent her mother’s presence in her professional life. They were usually on the same page. Right now, Lela’s domineering presence in her personal life was more problematic. </p><p>It was those three men who were most definitely putting her through the mill. Howard Hughes lurked in the background of her life, willing to slide into whatever time she could spare for him. Lew Ayers was her girlhood crush, his dashing leading man status carrying over into their real life relationship of a year now, nearly. She knew that he loved her, but he was also self-centered and had some very old-fashioned views of what a woman should and should not do; things Ginger had zero interest in conceding to. She had no intention of being a stay-at-home wife. Her mother had told her a long time ago that she would make a lousy housewife, and Ginger agreed. Unfortunately, she had told her that while dating Fred Astaire, the third main pain in the ass in her life. Fred had been desperately in love with her in New York and she’d left for Hollywood before he could propose. Back then, marriage would have ruined any chance of a career for her. Now, she was an up-and-coming movie star. To her great surprise and distress, Fred had relocated from NYC to Los Angeles as work on Broadway dried up. They’d never stopped caring for one another and it was a huge issue. Fred was married now, a rebound marriage that she wouldn’t give him. She and he were bound together legally for at least several more movies, and it was extremely problematic. </p><p>But maybe it was no longer an issue. She had been anonymously mailed a letter that Fred had sent to his agent Leland. A letter in which he said that he was adamantly opposed to working with her. A few weeks ago, at the wrap of their movie, he had said that he couldn’t wait to work with her again, and now, he was saying something completely different. The betrayal cut to the bone. Her throat constricted again, tears threatening to disturb what little equilibrium she had managed to capture. </p><p>He didn’t want her. They had been intimate several times since he had relocated to Los Angeles, and she wondered if he was a better actor than he appeared to be. Was he just using her? She found that hard to believe. Did she want him to want her or did she want him to not want her? The answer to that was yes. She wanted both, and that made no sense to herself. Trying to look at it objectively, she realized that she was very much more upset at Fred saying he didn’t want her than when he still did want her. Then, she’d been secretly thrilled. No, the problem was that he didn’t want to work with her, didn’t apparently want anything to do with her now. It made her heart ache in ways that she didn’t know that it could. His soft hazel eyes and the feel of his body against hers made her tear up again. The way that he made her feel safe and loved was something she didn’t know if she could live without. She couldn’t bear to think that it was over between them. Of course, it was also infuriating that it SHOULD be over between them because he was married. Resentment flared up in her heart. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened and she had to consciously loosen her grip to stay on the road as the miles disappeared under the tires. </p><p>Reaching the top of the steep grade, she worked out the kinks in her hands from their hard grip on the steering wheel, shaking them out. She pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the car, careful to be far enough away from the highway to be safe. Stretching her arms high overhead, she breathed the cold mountain air deep into her lungs.  </p><p>Starting up again, she cruised slowly down the other side of the mountains, away from all the drama of her Hollywood life. </p><p> </p><p>*********************************</p><p> </p><p>A loud, insistent banging on the door awoke Fred from a deep slumber. He sat up, completely discombobulated, and rubbed at his face to shake off the sleep and jet lag. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard something or if he’d dreamed it, until he heard another series of hard bangs. Easing out of the covers quietly, so as not to wake Phyllis, he pulled on his pajama bottoms and swiftly ran down the stairs to the main floor to see what jerk was hammering on his door. This had better be good. He flung the front door open and scowled mightily. </p><p>Lew stood on his doorstep, and roughly stomped inside. </p><p>“Where is she?” he demanded, pushing Fred up against the wall. His face was red with rage.</p><p>Fred shook his hands off of him, ducked under his arms and was away faster than Lew was expecting. </p><p>“What the hell are you talking about? Who?” he hissed back, straightening his pajama top angrily. He was frustrated that the jet lag was making him slow. </p><p>“Who do you think, Fred?” Lew spit out, his fists clenched at his sides.  </p><p>“Oh. Ginger? How the hell should I know?” he replied, rapidly waking up now. “We just got back from Ireland last night.”</p><p>Behind the men, Phyllis came down the stairs, pulling her robe around her and just as angry at being rudely awoken as Fred was. </p><p>“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” Phyllis demanded, all 5 foot 2 of her filled with outrage. She poked Lew in the chest with her pointer finger. “And why would Fred know where Ginger is? We just got back to Los Angeles and we were catching up on sleep.”</p><p>Lew angrily banged his hand on the wall, but shuffled backwards, stuffing his hands into his pockets. </p><p>“Why don’t you start from the top?” Fred said frostily, pulling Phyllis away from Lew and crossing his arms over his chest. He pointedly did not invite the man into the house, and they stood in the entryway, with cold, late October morning air drafting into their home.</p><p>“Fine.” Lew glowered at Fred for a moment, then spoke. “Lela is worried sick and called me. Ginger never came home last night. Her car is in the driveway, but her cousin Phyllis’ car is gone. She left a note saying she was going for a drive and that’s it. No one has seen her since.”</p><p>Fear washed through Fred. Not even answering Lew, he flew to the telephone in the kitchen and dialed Ginger’s phone number. He realized that Lew and Phyllis were following him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the glance they shared as both realized Fred knew the number by heart. </p><p>“Lela, what’s going on?” he demanded when a tinny voice rang through the receiver. </p><p>The tinny voice continued for a moment, and Fred answered, “No, we only just got back into town late last night. I have no idea.” </p><p>Lela’s voice continued for a few moments, and Fred’s knuckles grew white on the phone. “Okay, well, let me know, please.”</p><p>He hung up the phone and turned back to Lew and Phyllis, his shock and concern naked on his face. His voice was ragged with worry.</p><p>“You’re right. Ginger’s gone.” </p><p> </p><p>*************************************</p><p> </p><p>Twilight found Ginger several hundred miles up Highway 99, rolling through the agricultural heart of California. She passed miles and miles of fields. Occasionally she felt sleepy with the monotony, driving through miles of crop land dotted with small towns filled with desperate, unemployed men and families trying to survive the economic collapse of the 1930’s, what some were calling the Great Depression. Now, she was grateful that she drove her cousin’s modest car and hadn’t left Los Angeles in her very expensive convertible that was worth a hundred times what these poor farm workers made in a year. It put her into a somber mood and made her realize that maybe her problems were less than what others were dealing with. A broken heart could be fixed. Being homeless, hungry, and desperate without hope was less simple to fix. </p><p>At every greasy, downbeat gas station, she paid in cash to fill her gas tank, buying food and little things that she didn’t need, just to put some cash in someone’s till at the end of the day that wouldn’t be there typically. She never spent enough to make herself a target, but she did what she could. </p><p>She didn’t know where she was going, but she wasn’t worried. She could do whatever she wanted for the next three weeks before she had to be back at RKO for rehearsals. She had money; she had a car. She had everything she needed. What she didn’t have, she could get. It was a bit of a revelation to feel this independent and unencumbered. She continued to drive. Phyll’s car ate up the asphalt with a comforting background growl. Every mile further from Los Angeles felt like a release. Every town she passed felt like another shackle falling off her body. Every bridge was another worry dropped from her heart. Every county line crossed was another weight off her shoulders.</p><p>That night, when it got so dark that she couldn’t drive safely, and she finally felt tired, she simply pulled over to the side of the road in a lonely forested area. Dark stands of pine, understory bushes and blackberry bramble towered over the car, dark and mysterious. The wind whistled around her, gusting and scattering golden leaves everywhere. Brilliant white stars erupted from a break in the clouds, filling the sky that wasn’t obscured by trees swaying in the wind. Pulling a blanket out of the trunk, she wrapped herself up tightly, and slept. </p><p> </p><p>*******************************</p><p> </p><p>Day Two – October 30</p><p>Lela Rogers paced up and down her living room, wearing a path in the carpet, wringing her hands. Images of Ginger kidnapped or held for ransom or injured rampaged through her mind. They had called the LAPD and the Sheriff’s office and the CA Highway Patrol that morning to report her disappearance. The police officer that they’d reported her disappearance to had gotten over his awestruck luck at getting this call and had diligently assured her that if she was anywhere within Los Angeles County, that they would find her. So far, they had turned up nothing. No one had seen her.  There was no ransom note. She had vanished. They did not call the studio, not wanting them to find fault with Ginger. When Lew wasn’t pacing and smoking, he occupied the couch, or went out for a drive, looking for her on the roads for hours at a time, only to return without luck. Cousin Phyllis cooked a simple meal of macaroni &amp; cheese with applesauce for dinner that had gone mostly untouched. They had all eventually gone to bed. No one slept. </p><p> </p><p>********************************</p><p> </p><p>Fred was in such a foul mood that Phyllis didn’t dare to talk to him. He only responded with grunts, shrugs, or slammed doors and he avoided her if at all possible. Her own anger simmered at him. She was furious that Lew had come here looking for that girl, assuming Fred knew where she was. She was humiliated that Fred would be so broken up for his “former” girlfriend. Obviously, things were going on between those two, just as she had suspected. Finally, having reached her limit of surly answers and watching him run his hands through his thinning hair for the thousandth time that day, she wrapped her son up warmly and took Peter and his nanny to the zoo for the rest of the afternoon. She’d had enough of Fred’s moping. Fred didn’t notice them leave. His mind was a million miles away, crying out for his dance partner, his golden girl, the woman he should have married, bewildered, and scared and wondering what they hell had happened. </p><p> </p><p>*******************************</p><p> </p><p>Waking up to birdsong was a familiar thing to Ginger. She loved to sleep with the windows open in her house. However, having a crow banging on her car while she slept curled up in the back seat was definitely something new. The bird cracked a nut on the hood, oblivious to her presence and it made her giggle as she sat up, momentarily disoriented. The crow looked back at her with surprise, cocked his head at her and flew off. She stretched and contemplated her day. </p><p>Ahead there was nothing but forest and behind was nothing but golden miles of scrub brush and Mount Shasta looming on the east over it all, like some lordly mountain king. The cold mountain air seeped into the window that she had cracked. She shivered. Being completely alone in the world was something she rarely got to experience. It was a bit scary and exhilarating at the same time. </p><p>Rummaging around in the backseat of the car, she found the bag of food that she’d bought along the way and snagged a couple of donuts and munched on them as she hit the road again and dreamed of a cup of hot coffee. She pulled her sweater around her and wished for something warmer. She tried wrapping herself in the blanket, but it was awkward under the seat belt. She kept it on anyway until the car warmed up and she could blast the heater against the cold late October weather. It sure was colder up here than in sunny southern California. </p><p>Finally, she pulled into a dingy gas station in a tiny town in the mountains of northern California. She rolled to a stop and an attendant in a dirty coverall meandered over to her.  Seeing a pretty girl, however, he stood up a little straighter and pumped her gas with a charming smile. Little bells tinkled at the door, alerting the man behind the counter to her presence as she walked in.</p><p>“I’d like to fill it up, please,” she said to the burly man with the wild beard, red with a strong peppering of white and a bald head, a huge pot belly and strong, calloused hands.</p><p>“Sure, sweetie.” He rang up her bill and watched her shiver in the brisk morning air. “You look cold.”</p><p>“Yeah, I left without my coat.” She felt silly being in her light slacks and a light cardigan that was perfectly acceptable winter wear in Los Angeles and completely unacceptable here in the mountains. </p><p>He considered her for a minute, looking her up and down. It made her a bit uncomfortable, but she was used to people looking at her body. She hugged her cardigan tighter against her body and noticed that she was the only one in the gas station/shop besides him. </p><p>“Wait right here,” he grunted.  He locked the till and waddled out behind the station. A door squeaked and banged on unoiled hinges and she lingered, wondering how long she should wait.</p><p>A minute later he returned, breathing hard. In his hands was a worn flannel lined wool hunting coat, just her size. He handed it to her gruffly, shoving it into her hands.</p><p>“Here put this on.”</p><p>“I’m sorry?” She held the jacket loosely in front of her, eying him as he returned to his place behind the counter.</p><p>“It’s yours if you want it. My wife died last year, and I still have some of her stuff. Gave most of it away, all the good stuff, I mean. This is what’s left. Seems like you and her are about the same size.” He gestured to the coat. “Go ahead, put it on. She don’t need it no more and neither do I.”</p><p>She shrugged gratefully into the thick coat, looking more country by the second, and much warmer. “Oh, thank you!” </p><p>He paused, pleased that she had accepted his gift. “Not from these parts, are ya?”</p><p>“No.” It was obvious.</p><p>“Hmmm. Wait right here.” Again, she stood and waited, wondering what he would come up with this time. She hoped it was coffee.</p><p>In a moment he returned with a bag full to overflowing with clothing and a pair of hiking boots balanced on top.</p><p>“Take these. You’re going to freeze in those slacks and those tiny slipper things on your feet.” </p><p>“Oh, are you sure?” Realizing that he spoke a lot of sense, she accepted the bag with a thankful smile.</p><p>“Absolutely.  Have a good trip, wherever you’re going.” He seemed to have exhausted his allotted number of words for the day, and returned to stocking things on the counter, waving her out. </p><p>“Thank you, I will.” While his back was turned, she slipped $100 in tens onto the counter and fled. The gas was already pumped so she zoomed away before he found it. She received a wage in Hollywood movies that most people could only dream of. His kindness and consideration renewed some of her trust in the goodness of people. </p><p>She continued to drive. The freeway snaked through the forest, full of twists and turns and she had to be careful now. At the top of the pass, she read the sign. It said: “Siskiyou Summit, 4310 feet, Highest Point on I-5”. On the other side of the pass, she put the car into a lower gear and descended down into Oregon. The oak savannas of California were a memory now and huge forests of spicy smelling fir, pine and understory trees stretched as far as her eye could see, which wasn’t much, considering how the road twisted and curved around the mountains. She cruised through the small towns of Ashland and Medford, looking for something that said “this is it” to her heart. She was ready to settle somewhere for a while and do some soul searching.</p><p>Eventually she found a sign that said, ‘Cabins for Rent’ just past the tiny village of Rogue River, along the actual Rogue River, and got herself one for the night. She couldn’t figure out the woodstove, so she just pulled on her new-to-her hunting jacket and pulled the heavy comforter over her head.  Her stomach full of decent “homemade” food from a little diner in Medford, and with another few hundred miles under her tires that day plus navigating a harrowing mountain pass, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. The roaring of the wild river lulled her to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>************************</p><p> </p><p>Day Three – October 31, 1934  - Halloween</p><p>As the hours without Ginger crawled along, Fred took to walking. Hermes joined him silently in the morning, a quiet companion who understood his grief, even as his own stomach was knotted with worry over his missing friend. Even in Los Angeles, late autumn isn’t always pleasant, and the wind and rain kicked up and still Fred walked, checking back every couple of hours. Phyllis made sure he was well wrapped against the weather and just let him go. There was nothing to say and nothing else to do. That night they took Peter trick-or-treating together and pretended for his sake that everything was fine.  He ran door to door in his little ghost costume that Phyllis had sewed for him. The little boy was ecstatic, and his joy made Fred smile for the first time in days.</p><p>*****************************</p><p> </p><p>Lela forgot about eating. She and cousin Phyllis curled up on the couch together and listened to music and shows on the radio to avoid listening to the infuriating tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall. They were both hoping for and dreading a call from the Sheriff’s Department or the Highway Patrol or the Los Angeles Police Department. Lew had gone home because he had to be back at work. He left the production office telephone number with them if they heard anything. The phone remained silent. Two afghans were already knit and the third was on Lela’s needles. They waited. </p><p> </p><p>*****************************</p><p> </p><p>A gust of wind that rattled the window next to the bed woke Ginger up. She’d always been an early riser, and she laid there for a moment trying to decide what time it was without a clock. Usually, her life was dictated by the clock. Twitching back the curtains and peering through the frosted glass, she could see the early morning hour before dawn. </p><p>She wrapped herself in the throw blanket off the end of the bed and sat on the creaky ancient rocking chair on the tiny porch as the sun came up. It burst over the eastern mountains, its cold white brilliance making the morning sparkle with frost and her breath came in white plumes. She’d dreamed of Fred last night. He had told her that he didn’t want her and then turned into a crow and flew away. She didn’t have any more tears to cry, so she hugged the blanket close and began to feel guilty for running away, literally, from her problems. Maybe she should have confronted Fred and asked him about the letter. Would he have told her the truth? What felt so wrong about this whole thing was that he had never lied to her before nor been two faced. Why he’d suddenly changed broke her heart. Maybe she should just cut out this whole thing with Fred and marry Lew. She should definitely tell Howard to get lost. She could feel decisions falling in to place in her mind and heart. Her body, however, wanted coffee or tea and breakfast. </p><p>She headed back into the cabin and found the remainder of the increasingly stale bag of donuts. However, there was coffee in a can on the counter, and a coffee pot, so she started a pot on the ancient stove. It took a while, but it began perking, coffee bubbling up happily into the little clear top button, and soon the delicious aroma filled the cold air of the small cabin. A knock on the door took her by surprise. </p><p>It was the manager of the cabins, a small wiry man named Dylan O’Hara, and he lived here all alone. He hadn’t said much last night when she checked in and he didn’t say much now. He was around eighty years old, but seemed hale and healthy.</p><p>“You know it’s Halloween today. Irish legends say that you should be extra hospitable to unexpected guests on Halloween and I guess you’re it. Did you figure out the woodstove? “His dark blue eyes looked at her from under long grey lashes and his felt cap.</p><p>“No, I just went to bed.”</p><p>“Hmfff.” He pushed into the one room cabin and started fiddling with the old cast iron stove. Gesturing for wood, she grabbed a few pieces stacked on the porch and handed them to him. He whistled while he started a fire in the stove and the small room began to warm up. “Bring in more wood from the porch and stack some in here if you want to keep it going.” </p><p>She’d been thinking about writing a few letters. “Is there a post office nearby?”</p><p>“Yes, up in Grants Pass there’s a big one. I’ll write out some directions for you. There’s letter head and envelopes on the desk. If you need anything, holler. I’m out to feed the horses.”</p><p>Her ears perked up. “Horses?”</p><p>“Yeah, I have several. I go riding out in the hills when I’m not busy here.” Since she was the only occupant of the tiny clutch of cabins, he obviously wasn’t very busy. Maybe business was so slow that he’d had a lot of time to ride lately. </p><p>“I love horses. I ride.”  </p><p>He looked at her dubiously. When she didn’t back down from the claim, he said, “Want to go riding this afternoon? I have two riding horses and I can’t ride ‘em both.”</p><p>Her smile lit up the room and he responded, reluctantly, with his own smile, hesitantly, as if it was something he didn’t do very often. </p><p>“Yes! After I get some groceries and mail a letter or two.” </p><p>“Fine. Give me a yell when you’re back.” With that, he left to feed his animals.</p><p>She finished her coffee and stale donuts and wrote two letters – one to Lela, and one to Fred. After licking the envelopes sealed, she looked at them for a long time, wondering if she should send them or not. Finally, she got the directions from Dylan, drove into town, and dropped the letters in the box in front of the post office. She picked up a few groceries and motored back to the cabins, enjoying the view of the Rogue as it raged alongside the road.</p><p>Upon returning, she found Dylan out in the small barn saddling two pretty decent looking horses. She had been afraid that they’d be crow bait. Instead, two sturdy looking Quarter horse geldings looked at her with their big brown eyes and long black lashes. Dylan handed her the reins of the buckskin named Brody and he took the slightly larger bay, named Niall. She stroked her horses soft golden-red nose and ran her fingers through his black mane, shaking out a few leaves. He poked around at her, looking for treats. Unfortunately for him, she didn’t have any. </p><p>When they were clear of the corral around the small, drafty stable, they mounted. She followed Dylan on a wide path into the foothills that edged the river and led to the greater mountains behind them. He sat his horse like he’d been born in the saddle or had grown out of the horses spine. The muddy path was steep and rocky in places, and their horses dug in with their hooves, clomping up the mountainside with determination. Soon it leveled out and Dylan stopped to show her some amazing views of a wide valley several hundred feet below them now. Fields of stubble stretched out until they ran into the mountains on the other side, with small farms and ranches dotting the landscape. A gust of wind shook a whole clump of brilliant yellow leaves off a maple tree, flustering her horse. Brody danced away from the perceived danger and Dylan urged his bay Niall closer to catch her if she fell. </p><p>When she expertly wheeled Brody around and brought him back to a calm standstill, he nodded in approval. “You’ve got a good seat.” </p><p>“Beg your pardon?” She inadvertently looked down at her pants. They were a pair of old denim jeans from the gas station attendant’s wife over a pair of well-worn thermal long underwear and the boots, which were a size too big.  </p><p>“You’ve got a good seat… you can ride.” </p><p>For some reason, the tiny compliment from this quiet, taciturn Irishman filled her with warmth. In Hollywood, you never knew if someone meant it when they complimented you or not. Here, she believed him and smiled bashfully, “Thanks.”</p><p>“Well, let’s go then.” He pulled Niall out in front of her and they continued. </p><p>They rode all afternoon, for several hours, until the skies turned from white-grey to a very threatening shade of dark, menacing grey. Droplets of rain began to hit the leaves of the trees above the trail, then it rained harder and the icy drops made it through the canopy to fall in a steady light drizzle. Ginger was amazed at the beauty around them. The Rogue River rushed by, swollen by autumn rains, dashing around boulders and uprooted tree trunks much bigger around than her body. Dylan said it would only get wilder as winter went on. She thrilled with the wild gusts of wind, with the red and gold and orange leaves falling off the trees, with the horses snorting hot steam into the cold air. She’d never felt so alive, except maybe in bed with a lover.</p><p>She should buy a place up here someday. The thought cheered her up.  When they returned, soaking wet, she thanked Dylan, Niall and Brody and said her good nights. Retreating to her cabin, she fired up the woodstove, had a cup of hot tea and a biscuit. She hit the sheets soon afterwards in a set of warm flannel long underwear, another gift from the kind husband of a woman who no longer needed them. </p><p> </p><p>************************</p><p> </p><p>Day Four – November 1</p><p>“Do you know how to shoot a gun?” Dylan asked when she’d returned. She’d taken an early morning walk to the river and back. “Want to learn?”</p><p>This little escape from Los Angeles was proving to be a wonderful adventure. She felt guilty, knowing her family and Lew were probably worried sick about her, but she quickly put it out of mind until later. Maybe she would telephone them. However, she forgot about them as she considered the challenge in Dylan’s dark blue eyes. </p><p>“Yes!”</p><p>He took her out to the meadow behind his own, larger cabin and taught her the basics of target shooting with his rifle. In his words, you never knew when a mountain lion or bear would be nosing around, checking out your livestock. As a city girl, she was fascinated. </p><p>Turns out that she was a naturally good shot. Shot after shot rang out, competing with her laughter and his encouragement. Each shot hit closer to the bullseye until she was hitting the closest ring or the center consistently. Her teacher whistled in amazement. She took a bow, and with a laugh, nailed the bullseye again.</p><p>All day, Dylan watched this beautiful, athletic blond whisp of a girl shoot and ride and hike, and wondered just who she was, and just what idiot had lost such a prize.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Trail to Oregon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ginger comes to some momentous decisions. Hearts will be broken whichever way she turns. Or will they?</p>
<p>Remember, this is based on "Roberta". If you've never had the pleasure of watching this movie, please do so! It's a slow burn to start but WHOO WHEE! Wait til we get going!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>November 2, 1934</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The toast tasted like sawdust in his mouth, the coffee like a bitter swill of liquid dismay in a mug. Fred stared out the breakfast nook window at the roses in his yard, as the petals flew off with the tempestuous November winds, and he grieved. His golden girl had flown off into the unknown, too. The initial panic of Ginger’s disappearance had given way to a dull ache punctuated by bursts of dread that hit him in the gut like a hard punch, and stole his breath away. </p>
<p>Hearing a commotion on the front porch, he retrieved the mail. Grabbing it all in a bunch, he tossed it with an uncaring heave onto the dining room table. Staring at it for a moment, he gave in to the impulse to be on the move and grabbed his jacket. Fear animated his limbs and he couldn’t stop the restless energy. Home was no longer his haven, and his wife was perfectly willing to have him be anywhere else right now. They had gotten into a shouting match again last night, and the guilt it left with Fred made an acid taste in the back of his throat. Shrugging into his jacket, he snatched the car keys and his wallet and went to spend the day with Hermes. Hermes would understand his agony. Lela would call them there if they had any news. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>********************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The twisty, winding road lay before her. Driving slowly, so as to enjoy the view of the low lying fog covering the mountains and seeping down onto the stubble fields of the valley floor, she canvassed the area surrounding the tiny town of Rogue River. This morning she and Dylan had taken the horses out for a morning ride in the crisp dawn, but this afternoon, she gave over to exploring the countryside. The idea of owning property here was growing on her. Now that she was finally making a wage on par with other actresses and actors with the same amount of experience, she wanted to use it wisely. Real estate was always a good bet. This area of southern Oregon was wildly different than anything she’d seen before and it held great appeal. As a child, she’d never really been camping or traveling and even when she’d had a backyard, she’d been staging plays with the neighborhood kids or playing in a treehouse. Her childhood hadn’t lasted long. She’d been working on Vaudeville as a child prodigy since she was fourteen years old, and had moved on to working on Broadway at seventeen. This time alone had kindled a hunger inside of her for the great outdoors, silence and majesty. </p>
<p>A feral, wild impulse pushed her to explore. She seldom tired out; her restive soul sought constant action. She also had a hard time sleeping, especially if she hadn’t pushed herself all day. She had been up since before dawn. Some days she felt like a battery that had been pushed past it’s limit and was at 120%. The restlessness pushed her constantly. That was one reason that she loved dance – it burned through that pent up restlessness like few other things did. She felt like she might explode if she stopped or slowed down. She needed a place to go to burn off that energy and charge her batteries the right way. Oregon looked like a likely candidate. She continued to drive, mesmerized by the wild beauty around her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*******************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ginger’s mom was holding up fairly well, if by “well” you meant that she hadn’t completely fallen apart. Phyllis Frasier was Ginger’s cousin, younger by a few years, and she lived with Ginger and her mother in the little three bedroom cottage. She put a plate of food down in front of Lela, who sighed and picked at it, just as Phyllis though that she would. She was pale, her usually meticulous hair unwashed and pulled back into a simple bun and she’d lost weight. It was killing her to see Lela like this. Ginger was her pride and joy. To Phyll, it felt like Ginger was the engine of a locomotive and Lela was the conductor. A conductor without a train was a person without purpose. It made her sad to watch her fall further and further into despair. Anger grew in Phyllis. She couldn’t believe that Ginger would be so selfish as to cause her mother and loved ones such anguish. She was certainly going to give her a piece of her mind when she returned. If she returned. No, that thought wasn’t worth considering, and Phyll buried it in anger. Just wait until she got her hands on that girl. She was going to give her a good talking to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***********************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lew flubbed his line for the fourth time. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he exhaled in frustration. The director walked over to him, and turned his back to the rest of the cast and crew in order to speak privately. </p>
<p>“Do you want to go home? I could find something else to shoot today.” </p>
<p>Lew looked at him with eyes slightly reddened from crying. Fortunately the scene they were doing involved a fight between him and the actress, so it would look fine on screen, but it was distressing to be in this situation. He waffled between anger and worry and panic on an hourly basis. He was trying really hard to keep his mind focused on work, but it was proving difficult. “Why?” and “Where are you?” and “How could you do this to me?” ran through his mind constantly. </p>
<p>He shook his head no. Going home would mean returning to an empty house. He and Ginger didn’t live together yet, but memories of her were all over the home. The engagement ring he had bought for her two weeks ago lay in its box on the kitchen table. It would taunt him. No, he needed to stay here and work and be as distracted as possible. Lela would call him if there was any news.<br/>
</p>
<p>“Alright people, let's get back to work.” The director clapped him on the back and turned away to let him gain his composure and to wrangle everyone back to their starting points. The day continued, dragging on. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>**********************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hermes and Fred returned from their walk, and tossed their jackets onto the couch. It was getting cold outside. Hermes couldn’t help but wonder if Ginger was out in the cold somewhere, hurt, maybe in a ditch in Phyll’s car. The idea made him shudder in horror. Checking in with Lela quickly, she confirmed that the Sheriff’s office and LAPD had no news for them. He wondered when they should give up the search and consider what came after. Glancing back at Fred sitting nearly comatose on his couch, he decided he would never, ever bring that up to his friend or Lela. He would silently support them both, no  matter what happened. </p>
<p>After a dinner where they choked down some pasta from the corner Italian restaurant, he waved as Fred pulled out of his driveway and finally went home for the night. He went inside to read, and wait. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>***********************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you eat at Hermes’ house?” Phyllis asked as Fred came into the living room and took his place in his recliner. She sat in hers working on an embroidery project, pulling efficient stitches to create a rose. </p>
<p>“Yes,” he replied, taking the paper and pretending to read. </p>
<p>She could see his eyes travel over the print, never focusing on anything for long. His eyes were red and his face drawn and greyish, and his fingers shook slightly where they held the edges of the newspaper. She pricked her finger with the embroidery needle because she wasn’t watching what she was doing, and an inordinate amount of anger erupted within her. Damn that girl for interfering. Fred was hers and she didn’t have any right to upend their lives like this. This was her worst nightmare come true. It was exactly why she’d insisted that Fred marry her three days before they relocated to Los Angeles. She knew Fred still carried a torch for that girl. When and if she was found, she’d sure like to slap that little tart and tell her off. Her husband would never allow that, though, and that made it even more difficult to swallow her frustrations and rage. She stabbed the needle into the fabric and stitched as if her marriage depended on it. </p>
<p>Fred watched Phyllis out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t blame her, really, for being angry. This was most definitely not what she’d signed up for. The guilt was eating him alive. He truly loved Phyllis, she was a great gal, but he also loved Ginger. He couldn’t help that he’d loved Ginger before ever meeting Phyllis, it was just the way it was. He also couldn’t help being concerned over her disappearance. There was no good solution to this dilemma that he could think of. This emergency had crystalized things for him – if he had to choose, he would choose Ginger. However, the choice was not his to make. Without thinking too much about it, he leapt up from his recliner and stomped into the kitchen for some orange juice. Slamming open the fridge, he drank straight from the bottle, which Phyllis hated. His eyes fell on the pile of mail and without enthusiasm, he thumbed through it. </p>
<p>The letter caught his eye. He read the return address and reflected that he didn’t know anyone in Oregon. Tearing open the envelope, he read. </p>
<p>“Phyllis! I’ll be at Lela’s!” he shouted, tearing out of the house so fast that he was a Fred-shaped blur.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>**************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lela opened the door to a frantic hammering. Fred rushed in with a blast of frigid November air. </p>
<p>“Lela, she’s in Oregon and she’s okay,” he jubilantly yelled, grabbing her by the arms and swinging her around. </p>
<p>“What?” Lela grabbed at his hands, trying to stay on her feet. “Ginger? Where! How?”</p>
<p>Fred stopped his happy dance and put Lela back down on her feet. “I got a letter! It’s her!”</p>
<p>Lela collapsed onto her couch, and put her face into her hands. Fred crashed down next to her and put an arm around her, hugging her tightly. Phyll came in from her bedroom at the commotion and her face brightened at Fred’s overjoyed expression. </p>
<p>“Where is she?” Lela demanded, trying to grab the letter in his hand. He snatched it away. Phyll ran to the entryway and looked through their mail, too. Sure enough, a matching letter existed. She rushed it to Lela, who tore it open and read hastily. They all leaned over to read over her shoulder. </p>
<p>Ginger didn’t say much, just that she was well and fine and needed a break and she was sorry if she caused them worry. She was in southern Oregon, and renting a small cabin. She said she needed some time to think and that she’d be home soon. The relief in the room was palatable. Lela jumped to the phone and hurried to call Lew and Hermes. </p>
<p>“What does your letter say, Fred?” Phyll asked, curiosity and relief painting her features.</p>
<p>Fred’s exultant expression faltered. He looked down at the letter in his hands. Ginger’s note to him hadn’t been a happy note. He had no intention of sharing that with anyone. He carefully schooled his features to neutrality. “Oh, this and that. Nothing terribly important. What is important is that she’s okay.” </p>
<p>Lela dabbed her eyes and laughed in relief. She looked at the return address on the envelope and figured that any phone calls to the Sheriff or Highway Patrol would have to wait until the morning.</p>
<p> Fred stood up abruptly. As much as he had wanted to be here, he now wanted to leave. He needed some time to himself.</p>
<p>Lela wiped her eyes and said, “I’ll call first thing in the morning. I’ll let you know what they say.”</p>
<p>Lela came to him and embraced him hard. She was tiny, just like Ginger, with the same build and strength, and it gave Fred a sharp pang of sadness. His breath came shorter, and he felt that panicky feeling begin to build in his chest. Lela presented the opportunity he needed. They had known each other for four years, and she looked out for him just like she looked out for her daughter, and the dozen budding actresses in her mentoring school. She liked Fred, just not that he was now married and still entangled emotionally with her daughter. </p>
<p>“Fred, I just called Lew. You need to go. If he finds you here, I don’t know what he’ll do,” she said, pushing him towards the door. “I’ll call you if I get any more news. I called Hermes, too; I think he could use some cheering up.”</p>
<p>He kissed her on the cheek and rushed out the door. He had zero desire to get into a confrontation with Lew right now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>***********************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fred drove around Los Angeles for hours before the ended up in Hermes’ driveway. Now, he sat on Hermes’ couch, utterly despondent. Hermes read the letter over and over, and had no idea what to say to his sad friend. He was speechless. He didn’t know what had happened between the two, but the worst was that Fred didn’t apparently know either. He had walked in to Hermes’ house, shoved the letter into his chest and locked himself in the bathroom for a half hour. After Hermes talked him out, he’d retreated to the couch, nearly catatonic. </p>
<p>“Dear Fred,<br/>
I’m in Oregon, safe in a little cabin I’m renting along the river, and I’ve had some time to think.<br/>
I’ve decided that we need to cut things off. I can’t go on like this; it’s tearing me up inside. I’m choosing Lew.<br/>
I love you, Fred, and I’m sorry that you don’t want to dance with me. I just wish you’d told me in person.  I’ll contact the studio when I return and try to get out of my contract. I would prefer if you didn’t contact me again.<br/>
I sent a letter to my Mother, too, so you don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to. Thank you for all the good times and best wishes to you and Phyllis.<br/>
Love,<br/>
Ginge”</p>
<p>Not knowing what else to do, he called Phyllis to tell her that Fred was at his house. After the short conversation, he returned to the couch and simply sat next to him. Together they sat in their own little worlds’ while the radio played a soft tune in the background, for hours, in silence. Finally, Fred simply tipped over and fell asleep on the arm of the couch. Hermes covered him up with an afghan that Lela had knit for him years ago. Tomorrow would take care of itself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>***********************</p>
<p>She picked up her bag of groceries and thanked the clerk with a small smile. Ginger didn’t notice the looks the clerks exchanged, or the curiosity that her presence had stirred in the tiny town where nothing much ever happened. A mysterious, beautiful woman showing up and spending money like water was thrilling to the bored and poverty-stricken locals. Everyone wondered who she was, and why sadness clung to her. </p>
<p>On the drive back to the cabin, she wondered if her Mother and Fred had received her letters yet. Nervous adrenaline made her stomach clench. Usually, she liked keeping all her options open. For one of the first times in her life, she was deliberately closing the door on a choice. She hoped it was the right thing to do. She wanted to do the right thing. </p>
<p>The car tires crunched on the gravel driveway as she pulled in to the cabins. Hurrying inside against the chill, she stocked the small fridge and settled in for the night. The tea pot whistled on the stovetop and she steeped herself a cup of chamomile. Maybe that would help her sleep tonight. She no longer felt like a maelstrom raged within her heart. A cool and resoluteness engulfed her instead. Her mother always claimed that she was the most stubborn person that she knew, and indeed, she felt that determination fill her up. Watching the flames flicker through the seams of the woodstove, she decided that she should probably be getting home soon. Her mother was probably worried sick. She determined to call her in the morning, after she returned from fishing with Dylan at dawn. She had made her decisions. It was probably time to go home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Homecoming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It was only a matter of time before she was found. Now, Ginger has to face the music. Hard choices are the only options.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>November 3-14, 1934  - Day 6</p><p>A green and white Sheriff’s patrol car rolled up along the bank of the Rogue. Ginger watched it out of the corner of her eye, but her attention was on the end of her line. The ice cold water flowed around her legs in their rubber waist-high waders and she struggled to maintain her footing on the slippery rocks while battling the fish fighting for it’s life on the hook. </p><p>“Hallooo in the river!”</p><p>Ginger waved at him, focusing on her fish. She pulled on the line, setting the hook even more firmly in its mouth. </p><p>The Sheriff waited patiently; his thumbs hooked on his belt. </p><p>Dylan waded over towards her, a huge net in his hands. She put her back into reeling in the struggling fish, inch by inch, as it lost strength. Finally, Dylan was able to scoop the net under the huge steelhead, and together they carefully retreated to the riverbank with their prize.</p><p>The Sheriff stepped forward and helped her out of the river onto the muddy bank, his strong hand on her elbow. Dylan bushed off his assistance and stood next to her, holding the net closed with the struggling fish so it didn’t escape back to its watery home.</p><p>“Good morning,” he asked, looking her up and down dubiously, “Are you Ginger Rogers?” </p><p>She knelt next to the net and contemplated the majestic steelhead she’d just caught and ducked her head in resignation. She’d been found. </p><p>“Yes,” she replied softly. </p><p>“Your family is worried about you. They received your letters and would like to talk with you.” </p><p>“Yeah, I bet they do,” she said, standing up and turning to Dylan, “May I use your phone?” </p><p>Dylan stared at her, his dark blue eyes wide, things falling into place in his head. Even back here in the back woods of Oregon, the name of Ginger Rogers was known. His new friend certainly fit the image in his mind of the famous movie star. The pieced fell together, and he started to chuckle. </p><p>“Of course …. Virginia McMath … hehehehe,” he sludged up the muddy bank, carrying the netted fish. His laughter rang out, burbling behind him. “You sure fooled me!”</p><p>Ginger couldn’t help smiling. Now that he knew this wasn’t a kidnapping, the Sheriff was thrilled at meeting the famous movie star. In short order he had an autograph and a whale of a story to tell back in town and at the station.  </p><p>She sloshed back to Dylan’s cabin a hundred feet away, and carefully shed the waders on his front porch. Stepping out in her stocking feet, she followed him inside. It was decorated sparsely, in old bachelor style. He pointed to the phone and left, giving her some privacy.</p><p>She dialed her phone number with trembling fingers. It barely rang once before it was snatched up. </p><p>“Hello, Mom? It’s me, Ginger.” On the other end of the line, Lela burst into tears and tried to talk through snuffling gasps. Their conversation was short, but she agreed to start driving home immediately. Hanging up, she held on to the receiver and said a silent prayer for serenity. </p><p>An hour later, Phyll’s car was all packed up and she was ready to hit the road. All she had left to do was gas up in town. She shut her cabin door tightly and went to find Dylan.</p><p>He was in the barn, just finishing up saddling Niall. In the other stall, Brody nickered at her. She crossed and rubbed his soft nose and kissed him goodbye.</p><p>“You heading out?” he asked, cinching up the saddle tighter. </p><p>“Yep, all packed.”</p><p>He led the horse out of the barn into the paddock and mounted. Apparently, he wasn’t big on goodbyes. She hadn’t expected him to be. His white hair flapped about in the wind and he jammed his cap on his head. He nodded to her under the brim and gave her a rare smile.</p><p>“Fish don't care if you're a movie star. The Rogue is always here, if you get tired of Hollywood.”</p><p>The first real smile in days broke over her face. She appreciated the reminder. “Yeah, it is.”</p><p>“Take care, then.” </p><p>“You, too.”</p><p>Dylan kicked Niall forward and she followed him out, carefully closing the gate behind them. She watched for a moment as they crossed the gravel driveway and began the slow steady climb up the trail into the woods with the view. He waved once before disappearing under the trees. Turning her back on them, she started up the Buick and began the long drive home. Back to Hollywood, back to Lew and back to an unknown future. One without Fred.</p><p> </p><p>********************************</p><p> </p><p>November 5, 1934 - Day Eight </p><p> </p><p>Ginger pulled over to the side of the road and idled the Buick down the street from her house. The dark night gave her some cover, hiding her, and the late hour, nearly midnight, gave her some more cover. It had been an exceptionally long day, nearly eighteen hours of driving from northern California, where she’d stopped for the night at a motel along the road. Now, home was just barely visible, and she hesitated. </p><p>From the corner, she could see her mother’s car, Lew’s car and of course, her own, since she had absconded with Phyll’s. She just needed a moment before she arrived. After all the silence of the past week, she knew it was going to be loud, emotional, and exhausting. She was looking forward to seeing everyone, but she knew she was in for it. She felt like a little kid caught doing something naughty. Which to be fair, she could have handled the whole situation better. She could have simply said that she needed time and taken it, instead of sneaking off and scaring the daylights out of everyone. That hadn’t been fair to them, at all. Whatever tongue lashing she was in for was probably deserved. </p><p>She was twenty-three year old, dammit. She should be able to figure out what she needed and ask for it. Right now, her world wasn’t set up for that and she’d allowed her mother and Lew to treat her like a child, making decisions on her behalf. Well, she determined that she should be the one making the choices in her life. Taking a deep breath, she vowed to start steering her own boat and not letting everyone else push her around into the little Ginger-shaped person they wanted her to be. First, though, she had to get through this homecoming. </p><p>Coming home meant that she also had to follow through on her vow to break things off with Fred and not see him again. Even the thought of it made her heart ache again. A part of her had hoped that his car would be in the driveway. But she had told him that she didn’t want to see him, and he had apparently respected her wishes. It didn’t feel right that he was the only one who actually treated her with respect, and he was the one who had to go and everyone else got to stay. But no one said life was fair. She was only twenty three, but she knew that lesson far too well. </p><p>Brushing her hair out of her face and straightening her sweater, she pulled the car out and drove home. </p><p> </p><p>*****************</p><p> </p><p>The slam of a car door sent Lew flying out of the front door. In the darkness, Ginger stood next to the Buick, holding a jacket in front of her like a shield. He jumped down the steps, and tackled her where she stood, wrapping his arms around her, and lifting her off of her feet. Hugging her tightly and babbling into her shoulder, he was joined by Lela and Phyll. After a moment, he set her down and into her mother’s arms, with Phyll hugging them both. </p><p>Ginger tried to talk, to apologize and explain, but her mother shushed her, and the three relieved people ushered her into the house. Lew went back to get everything from the car.<br/>
</p><p>“I’m sorry, Mom,” she said, but Lela just grabbed her by the face and smooshed her cheeks together and kissed her a dozen times, like she had when she was a little girl and wrapped her in another quick hug. </p><p>“No, you can talk tomorrow. You’ve had a long day,” she took the coat from her hands and hung it on the coat hanger. “You should get into bed. I bet you’re exhausted.”<br/>
</p><p>Lela beamed at her, brushing tears off her face with the back of her hand, clearly relieved to have her daughter at home. Behind her, Lew appeared with all her things. He pushed past them and deposited it all in her messy room. </p><p>He grabbed his own jacket from the coat hanger and pulled it on. Coming to her, he hugged her again and kissed the top of her head. “Welcome home, Gin. I’m so glad you’re back.”</p><p>Lela began pushing her towards her room, and Lew said his goodnights and was gone. Phyll said goodnight and got out of the way. </p><p>“I’m glad you’re home, sweetie,” her mother said, relief all over her face. Ginger felt guilty for making her so worried and nodded. </p><p>Crawling into her own comfortable bed, she laid in the dark for a long time before falling asleep. She was home and now the new future was a reality. </p><p> </p><p>*********************************</p><p> </p><p>November 8, 1934</p><p>Things were finally settling down at the little cottage on Dundee Street. After some heart-to-heart talks with her Mother and Lew, and getting a royal scolding from Phyll, things were once again on an even keel. </p><p>A honk from the driveway interrupted her while Ginger was working on the breakfast dishes. Stretching onto her toes to look out the window and into the drive, she was surprised to see Lew’s car through the current downpour. She hadn’t expected him until later in the day. She dried her hands off quickly and hurried to the door. </p><p>He was all smiles when she opened it and he quickly stepped inside out of the rain. Cold droplets fell everywhere. She tried to take his coat, but he refused. </p><p>“Get your coat, we’re going out!” he said, brushing her hands away and finding her heavy wool coat on the rack. </p><p>The dishes weren’t done, but he apparently wasn’t taking no for an answer. Lela appeared in the doorway to see what all the fuss was about but just smiled at Lew for showing up so early in the morning. It was barely nine o’clock. Ginger had always been a morning person, sometimes waking up as early as 4am but Lela less so. She’d already made breakfast for herself and her mother, and relaxed for an hour playing board games together. Phyll never appeared before eight-thirty if she could help it. </p><p>“Good morning, Lew,” Lela said and gave him a hand in getting Ginger into the coat. “Bye, you two, have fun!”</p><p>Ginger felt like a rag doll, tossed this way and that and pushed out the door. Lew grabbed her hand, and they were out the door before she even knew it.  He made she that she was all tucked into the car, slammed the door shut and ran around to his side and got in.</p><p>“I thought maybe we could get breakfast take a ride up Pacific Coast Highway, maybe.” He pulled out of the drive and sped down the street, banging his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the music on the radio, seemingly possessed of a wild energy this morning.</p><p>Ginger settled in for the drive and looked forward to a cup of tea at the breakfast restaurant they pulled into an hour later. </p><p>A shocked waitress mumbled while she gave them menus, staring at her and obviously recognizing who she was serving. Ginger smiled at her kindly, and ordered her usual, bacon and eggs. Lew ordered a huge stack of pancakes. Soon, they were served and ate, chatting away companionably. Seagulls flew around outside the window, squawking and making a ruckus. The sky was unexpectedly blue out here at the coast, and the weak winter sunlight sparkled on the Pacific. It was a beautiful morning.</p><p>After a hearty breakfast, Lew took drove up the coast and pulled over into a wide section of the road.  He opened Ginger’s door for her and helped her into her coat. The sunshine may have been bright, but it was cold out on the slight promontory. From here, they could see for miles up and down the coastal highway and out to sea. </p><p>Ginger was admiring the view and turned to say something to Lew, but he wasn’t where she expected him to be. Instead, he was on his knee. Extending his hands to her, he held out a small box. </p><p>He had been very attentive to her lately since she’d returned home, and she had been expecting something like this. Still, it was a shock to actually see him on his knees proposing to her. </p><p>The sea breeze ruffled his dark hair and the sunlight made him squint, but obviously scared to death, he choked out, “Will you marry me, Gin?”</p><p>Pausing a moment to breathe before she fainted, she answered, outwardly calm, “Yes.”</p><p>Inside, she felt more like her steelhead, thrashing on the hook. </p><p> </p><p>*********************************</p><p> </p><p>November 14, 1934</p><p>A week later, Ginger waited in her living room for the limousine that would take her to her wedding. Butterflies the size of ostriches must be in her stomach because she felt very unsettled. After another few minutes of waiting, while Lela and Phyll hurried around on frantic last minute errands, the limo pulled up in the drive, and Leland Hayward, her agent, knocked on her door. He had insisted upon being her escort and had arrived in the limo. </p><p>When she opened the door, he wolf whistled at her in her Chantilly dress and hat. She did a little dance, showing off the dress. He surprised her by giving her a big hug, holding her tight. </p><p>“Hey, I thought Ginger was marrying Lew today,” her mother joked as she arrived in the living room in time to see his embrace. She pulled on her coat over her gown and yelled at Phyll to hurry. </p><p>“Nope, she’s marrying me today. She can do better than an actor,” he joked. </p><p>“Well, that’s news to me!” Ginger replied, going along with it for laughs. She needed a laugh. She was nervous as hell. Lela snapped a few more pictures of her in her frilly wedding dress before ushering everyone out the door. Ginger and Leland slid into the limo and Lela and Phyll followed in their car.</p><p>Finally, they were driving out to Glendale to the Little Church of the Flowers. Los Angeles and then the Valley raced by, but Ginger barely saw any of it. Her breath came in shallow inhales and she was trying very hard not to faint. Her dress felt too tight around her waist and the seat belt was constricting her further. She closed her eyes and had last second regrets, trying not to wonder what it would be like to be marrying Fred instead of Lew. She squashed the thought and turned to talk to Leland to distract herself from her internal debate. It was far too late to be debating. She’d made her choice, and now she had to live with it. </p><p>Leland was staring at her strangely, his eyes dark and intent. He’d always been an odd little man, but he was one of the best agents in the business. He was also Fred’s agent. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She thought that he also had a crush on her, but he’d certainly never said anything unprofessional before. That was about to be a thing of the past. </p><p>“So, Ginger, seriously – why are you marrying an actor? You can do better than that,” he said soberly. “An agent is much more stable, and Mrs. Leland Hayward sounds much better than Mrs. Lew Ayers. Let’s turn the car around and head to Santa Barbara. Will you marry me?”</p><p>Ginger was shocked into silence, just staring at him. Surely, this must be a bad joke. However, Leland was poker-faced and leaning towards her earnestly. She didn’t know what to say. Nothing had prepared her for something like this. She was in a limo on the way to her WEDDING. This was scandalous. Suddenly she feared for her safety, locked in a car with a man with inappropriate intentions.</p><p>“Come on, Ginger, say yes. I’ve had a thing for you since I saw you dancing “Night &amp; Day” with Fred.”</p><p>Completely thrown off balance, she began to get angry. Fortunately, they were just pulling up to the church now. “This is no time to tell me about it, Leland. Let me out. Now.”</p><p>Leland instead ordered the limo driver to drive them around the block, and he did so, ignoring Ginger’s request. </p><p>“Drive me to the church RIGHT NOW,” she demanded, anger winning over fear. She could see a couple of dozen photographers and wedding guests waiting for her arrival mingling on the sidewalk and jostling for a better view of her. It looked like a zoo out there and it sure felt like a zoo inside, too. She wondered what would happen if she pounded on the glass if Leland refused to let her go.</p><p>Leland slumped into the seat, defeated. “Fine. Driver, stop, please.”</p><p>Ginger fled as soon as the limo came to a stop, greatly preferring the flashing bulbs and clamor of the photographers and the cheers of the guests over the horror of the limo scene. She shuddered but tried to remember to smile for the cameras. She hurried into the church, desperate to escape from the car. Behind her, the limo pulled out, with Leland still inside. </p><p>Finding her bridesmaids, her cousin Phyll and friends Janet Gaynor and Mary Brian, she nearly fell into their arms in relief. Phyll gave her a weird look and she whispered, “I’ll tell you later.” Settling down and focusing her attention at the matter at hand, she thought of Lew waiting for her in the sanctuary and sent up a prayer to whomever might be listening that she was doing the right thing. </p><p>The ceremony went smoothly, except for a small glitch when Lew’s best man, Ben Alexander, couldn’t find the wedding ring. The panicked look on his face stretched for a full minute while he dug through every pocket. With a small guilty laugh, Lew reached into his own pocket and found the missing ring that he’d forgotten to give his best man. After that, everything went fine.</p><p>The reception was held at the Ambassador Hotel and their 250 guests danced and dined until the early morning hours. Fortunately, the short notice hadn’t caused much of an issue for the guests. No one wanted to miss the wedding of the famous Ginger Rogers to the sometimes famous Lew Ayers. The photographers caught all of the action. Even on her wedding day, the cameras demanded her attention.<br/>

</p>
<p>The next day they drove in Lew’s car up to Del Monte Lodge in Carmel and spent five days on their honeymoon before they both had to return to work. It was nice. </p><p>When they returned, they moved in to a new, huge house on Roxbury Drive. Ginger bought it, of course. </p><p> </p><p>**************************************</p><p> </p><p>Fred spent the afternoon walking alone in Griffith Park with his thoughts. If he wanted to know anything about the wedding, Hermes would tell him. If not, he was sure to hear something when rehearsals for “Roberta” started in a week. </p><p>It was a long week.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Masquerade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Breach of contract or breach of etiquette? Which one will Ginger choose?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>November 21, 1934</p><p>The clock ticked slowly, time seeming to warp and run slower than usual. Eight o’clock, the beginning of rehearsal time on their first day on “Roberta” came and went. Hermes, Hal, and Fred all puttered around the stage, doing busy work, waiting for Ginger, glancing at the clock every few minutes. No one knew if she was going to show up or not. The studio executives had assured Fred that her contract was signed, and she was legally obligated to do the movie, but Ginger had stood up to them before and gotten her way. The three men all had different reasons for fearing that she would end the production. </p><p>Hermes was concerned for Ginger. Obviously, she had been extremely distraught – enough to run away and literally disappear for a week. Then, in a whirlwind of action or reaction and emotion, she’d married Lew in short order. There was no coincidence that she’d done it immediately before returning to work with Fred. The disturbing letter spelled it out, though what she wrote and what she meant could be quite different things. He wondered what was going through her head. Even for her, tempestuous and impulsive as she could be, it was excessive. He hoped she was okay.</p><p>Hal was simply fearful for his job. He’d only worked with Fred, Ginger and Hermes for a half a movie, but it was more than ample to become clear to him that this was something special. Something special and he was getting paid very well to be in on it. That it seemed to be partially about keeping a budding relationship of some sort between the two actors secret did not disturb him in the slightest. He liked both of them. And what they did was their business, not his. His job was to show up and play piano. He liked his job very, very much. Right now, Ginger was dangerously close to committing a breach of contract, and that could shut down the entire film if she had to be recast. It could put them all out of work for months and times were hard during the Great Depression, even for talented musicians like him. He’d bet everything on this job, and he needed it. He also really liked these two, and hoped they’d straighten things out enough to work together. He bit his fingernails and watched the clock.</p><p>Fred had so much going on in his head that he thought it might explode. He had literally signed his contract and put all his hopes for a career in film on Ginger. The audiences loved her. She had over twenty movies on her resume now, and polls had responded very positively to her stretching her wings into their dance movies. Though he didn’t like to admit it, people flocked to the movie theaters to see her, not him. He was still barely known in Hollywood. He had a flop with Joan Crawford on his resume and two movies with Ginger, and she had carried the load. Not exactly a promising start. He’d thrown all the dice on establishing himself as Ginger’s dance partner, and that was to be his jumping off point eventually to a solo career. If she refused to work with him, he might have to return to Broadway or to London’s West End. He would always be able to put food on the table, but a career in movies sounded much better.</p><p>Of course, it was far more than their work relationship that occupied his mind and heart. What on earth had caused her to run away? Why did she think he didn’t want to work with her? Why had she refused to even speak with him? Why had she married Lew when she’d been questioning even continuing the relationship? The questions had kept him up at night over the past month, rampaging through his mind for hours at a time, days even, and he felt tired in a way that he seldom felt. It was the same feeling as when she had left him in New York for Hollywood. However, now they had worked together for a year and formed a solid partnership and their friendship had grown. He missed her. He missed everything about her.</p><p>He could understand if she wanted to cut off their relationship, though, as much as he hated that thought; after all, they were both married. But it chewed him up inside that she thought he didn’t want to work or dance with her again. He didn’t understand where that was coming from at all. When they had parted a few months ago, he’d been excited and looking forward to doing “Roberta” with her in the fall. What had happened? Since she had forbidden him to contact her, he had no idea and she hadn’t said anything to Hermes, either. </p><p>But most of all… was she happy? At the end of the day, that was really the only thing that mattered. </p><p>The clock continued its relentless countdown. </p><p>8:10. </p><p>8:15. </p><p>8:20. </p><p>8:25.</p><p> </p><p>******************</p><p> </p><p>The entrance door to the stage slammed opened, and Ginger stalked onto the soundstage, her low heels clicking on the floor decisively. </p><p>Hermes, Hal, and Fred all leapt to their feet. </p><p>“Sorry I’m late gentlemen, my apologies,” she said in a cool, brisk voice. She took off her wool coat and draped it over the back her directors style chair and carefully unpinned her hat from her newly dyed blond curls. In rehearsal slacks and a button down cotton shirt and cardigan, she looked ready for work. Tossing her script on to the chair, she placed her hat on top of it and turned to face the three men.<br/>
</p><p>It was all Fred could do to stop himself from running over and scooping her up into his arms. The expression on her face stopped him. It was a mask, set with determination. Her entire body was rigid and held under tight control. She looked fragile, as if she could break into a thousand pieces at any moment, yet Fred knew looks were deceiving. She was one of the strongest people that he knew, physically and mentally and in no way was she the delicate flower that she appeared to be. She was a survivor. One underestimated her at their peril. He had no intention of underestimating her.</p><p>“Good morning, we were just starting to go through the script. Please, join us,” he said very formally. She moved to drag her chair over to where the three men had formed a circle with theirs. Her sapphire eyes were icy cold as she looked the three of them over. </p><p>Hermes and Hal shifted uncomfortably before Hermes couldn’t stand it and asked her if he could give her a hug and she acquiesced, letting him fold her into his arms in a careful squeeze that she barely returned. Hal stepped forward and shook her hand with a warm smile. There was a little bit of thaw, but not much. Fred didn’t dare move from where he sat. He nodded to her and she returned a frosty smile.</p><p>They sat down in a circle and Fred opened the script, thumbing through its tattered, dog eared pages. They were all familiar with it of course, having had their first drafts for a week now. They ran through it, noted where the dances were and such, and discussed what purpose they served within the story. Fred’s mind was distracted by Ginger’s refusal to look directly at him. When she turned towards him, her eyes skimmed somewhere over his head. She was polite enough and utterly professional, but the easy comradery was absent, held captive behind a steely resolve. It broke his heart.</p><p>Finally, though, he couldn’t stand it. He had to talk to her, had to know what she was thinking and feeling, even if it meant a confrontation, or worse, a break. Something was obviously not right and if she was going to only speak to him at work in a professional capacity, then he was going to have his say and know her reasons. He had already tipped off Hermes and Hal that he wanted an opportunity to talk to Ginger alone if one presented itself. </p><p>After they’d read through the script and talked a bit about some of his ideas for choreography and the motivations of their characters, he called it a day. </p><p>“I think we’ll end early today,” he said. He had never, ever called a rehearsal day short and Ginger was immediately suspicious. </p><p>She shot him a glance. Hermes and Hal quietly packed up their things and scurried off the stage. She stayed but crossed her arms over her chest. Obviously, he meant to talk to her. She let her anger fill her up and the icy cold shoulder she’d brought to the set morphed into simmering rage. </p><p>Fred carefully perched on the edge of his chair. Outwardly he appeared calm, which she appreciated. She’d been fearful that he’d be emotional and overwrought in private. She let out a small, relieved breath but kept up her guard. She felt this betrayal to her core, and it infuriated her.</p><p>He fiddled with his script, held in front of him, “Can we please talk?”</p><p>“What’s there to talk about?”</p><p>Fred gazed at her. She was going to be difficult, then. He’d expected that. She had both a temper and a stubborn streak and she knew how to use them. He continued, treading carefully. There were a dozen things to talk about and she knew that damn well. </p><p>“Well, congratulations, for one.”</p><p>“Thanks.” </p><p>“And secondly…. I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried about you, taking off like that.”</p><p>She paused to inhale through her nose and blow it out her mouth. She glared at him in disbelief; how dare he play stupid with her. “I don’t see why.”</p><p>“You don’t?” He tossed down the script onto the stage floor. He started to cross his own arms and decided against it. Instead, he set them carefully on his knees. This was a bit like acting and he was starting to learn about body language. He didn’t want to come across as angry or defensive.</p><p>“What’s the big concern for a co-worker that you don’t want to work with?” she snapped.</p><p>Fred was honestly stumped. He pinched the bridge of his nose, “I don’t get it. What do you mean? You know that I adore you.”</p><p>She jolted out of the chair and advanced on him so fast that he flinched backwards in surprise. She yanked a crumpled, well folded note from her pocket and pushed it into his chest. “Well, you’ve a funny way of showing it. Tell me that you didn’t write this.”</p><p>Only after she’d retreated to her chair did he dare to open up the note. Reading it, he was horrified to see a copy of the letter that he’d sent his agent back in February. </p><p>“How did you get this?” he gasped out. His mind was moving at a furious pace, putting two and two together and not liking at all what it added up to. </p><p>“What does it matter?” She crossed her arms again and a note of anguish crept into her voice. “If you didn’t want to dance or make movies with me, why didn’t you just say so? Why send me this horrible note?”</p><p>Suddenly her anger made an appalling amount of sense. If he’d received a note like this, he’d be angry, too. It was an insulting passive-aggressive move. However, since he had most definitely NOT sent this to her, he was mightily confused. </p><p>She was waiting for his answer, beginning to tap her foot on the chair leg. He could feel her frustration building.</p><p>“Yes, I wrote this,” he admitted. After all, he HAD written it, “but will you let me explain?”</p><p>He could see her eyes get a bit watery at his admission. She pulled her sweater tighter around herself. Since she didn’t speak, he continued quickly while he still had the chance.<br/>
</p><p>“I did, I did write this letter BUT… I wrote this way back in February, long we shot “The Gay Divorcee.” It was right after “Rio”, and Phyllis was absolutely furious with me. She suspected that we, uh, got together, but I wouldn’t admit to anything. I wrote it to placate her, well, actually … she dictated it to me, and I signed it.”</p><p>“Really.”</p><p>“So, I wrote the letter and dropped it in the mail.”</p><p>“That’s not helping your case.”</p><p>“Yes, well,” he continued, his own frustration rising to the surface. How to get through to her, past her aggrieved thoughts? He could feel his own face getting hot. “Just hold on a minute here. Do you know what?”</p><p>There was only stony silence from Ginger, so he barreled on.</p><p>“I sent that damn letter to Leland. I sent it AFTER I walked into Merian Cooper’s office and signed a seven-movie contract with you, knowing damn well that “The Gay Divorcee” made a ton of money and they’d never let me out of this contract unless hell froze over. I signed on for seven more movies with you because I do, very much, want to work with you, to dance with you. And now there’s nothing Phyllis or anyone else can do about it. We have a contractual obligation. Now, no one can stop me from dancing with you. Only … only you can.”</p><p>His chest heaved with emotion now, and his voice cracked on the last sentence.</p><p>Her blue eyes were wide with shock and her mouth fell open in a tiny “o”. She deflated and sank back into her chair. </p><p>“So, you do want to dance with me?” She asked, in a tiny voice.  </p><p>“Yes, a thousand times, yes!” </p><p>She uncrossed her arms and looked away from him, fidgeting in her seat. A small bit of hope began to bloom in his chest. </p><p>“So… I ran away because I thought you didn’t want me. I didn’t know what to do.”</p><p> Her grudging admission made the fledgling hope grow a little bit more. “I do want you… I want seven more movies with you. I want to see you every day that I possibly can, even if it’s only at work.”<br/>
</p><p>She found a tissue in her purse and dabbed at her eyes and nose.</p><p>“Lew said that you didn’t care that I was gone.”</p><p>Fred didn’t want to call Lew a liar to her face and so he just shook his head and bit his lip. </p><p>“He said that you never called, and never asked about me.”</p><p>Fred’s own temper surged. He slapped the arm of his chair and leaned forward in his chair. He growled, “That’s a god damned lie. Ask Lela.”</p><p>“I did. She was evasive. But … Phyll said you did.”</p><p>She jumped up from her chair and began pacing. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head.</p><p>“Who sent the letter?” he asked, “Any ideas?”</p><p>She stopped at the edge of the stage abruptly. Suddenly it was all horribly clear to her. The uncomfortable incident with Leland leapt to mind. Leland must have sent the letter in an attempt to turn her against Fred, just as he had proposed marriage to try to steal her from Lew at the last minute. </p><p>“Oh, god. I know who sent it,” she gasped; when she got her hands on him, he was going to be very, very sorry. How dare that creep try to interfere in her life. “Leland did.”</p><p>“Leland, our agent? Son of a bitch,” Fred ground out between gritted teeth. “Why?”</p><p>“Oh, he proposed to me in the limo on the way to my wedding.”</p><p>“He WHAT?!” Fred was appalled  his hazel eyes bugged out slightly and his jaw dropped.</p><p>“It was awful. He wouldn’t let me out until he’d had his say.”</p><p>“Holy moly,” Fred paused, “What did you do to him?”</p><p>She snorted, and a glimmer of her usual good humor peaked through. “I left him in the limo and married Lew.”</p><p>They laughed together, because after-the-fact, it was humorous, but she’d brought up the sore point.</p><p>“... And you married Lew.”</p><p>She nodded and looked at the floor, angrily twisting her wedding ring on her finger. “And he lied to me so that I’d think you didn’t care.”</p><p>Fred didn’t say anything, afraid of jinxing the moment.</p><p>“And then … he made me sign a pre-nuptial agreement, right before the wedding, which I was dead set against, and said otherwise he wouldn’t marry me. At the church.” She began to struggle, her face contorting in anguish, and she sank down on the step to the stage. “And then when we went on our honeymoon, he asked me to get out of this movie contract and stay home for a while, to “take a break” from my career, so that I could focus properly on being his wife.”</p><p>He slid out of his chair and tentatively took a seat a foot away from her, but beside her on the stage step.</p><p>“That wasn’t what I wanted, and he knew it, “she began to breath faster, “He changed his personality before the ink on the wedding certificate was dry. I’ve always wanted a career, you know that. I know – exactly - why he wanted to get married so fast, before “Roberta” started. He wanted to have a claim on me before you and I worked together again. And now … I’m stuck.”</p><p>She put her face in her hands. Fred dared to scoot a little bit closer and begin to rub gentle circles on her back. She didn’t flinch away from his touch, as he had feared she might. He felt for her, he really did. After all, he felt rather trapped by Phyllis, too. She, too, had insisted that he marry her just three days before moving to Los Angeles to have a hold on him. She was worried about him working with all the beautiful actresses in Hollywood, including the possibility that he’d work with Ginger eventually. None of them had anticipated that day would come as soon as Fred’s second movie. </p><p>“Well, if you’d just called me to talk about it all…”</p><p>Her head jerked up with an indignant expression. “I’m an idiot. I’m a sad, sorry sap.”</p><p>“No, you’re not. Stop that. You’re not a sap. It was a whole bunch of horrible but honest misunderstandings and deliberate obfuscations. “</p><p>She leaned into him, putting her head on his shoulder. He continued to rub her back and felt her begin to calm down and breath regularly. “We’re pretty dumb, aren’t we.”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess so.”</p><p>“Two idiots married to the wrong people.” </p><p>“Yeah.” She agreed and started to get the hiccups. </p><p>He chuckled at her dilemma and patted her on the back instead, just like you’d pat a baby who needed to be burped. </p><p>“Shut up, it’s not funny,” she whined, which of course was not true. It only made him chuckle more. She started to smile in return, punctuated by hiccups. Each one brought more relieved laughter.<br/>
</p><p>He dashed a relieved tear from his eye and hoped that she didn’t notice. He leaned down to tie at his shoe, which was definitely already tied. “Well, so here we are.” </p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“Locked into a seven-movie contract.”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“Right now, we have five weeks of rehearsals scheduled. On this soundstage, all by ourselves.”</p><p>“Well, there’s Hermes and Hal, too.”</p><p>“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure of them.”</p><p>“And then six more movies after that.”</p><p>He stopped fiddling with his shoe and sat up straight. She was looking at him now, her face inches away from his. She was so close that he could feel her breath against his skin.<br/>

</p>
<p>His gentle hazel eyes held hers. He shrugged, “If nothing else, we have this.”</p><p>Her face twisted. Shoving his arms out of the way, she crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. He carefully pulled her closer as she straddled him, breathing in the scent of her curly blond hair and silky skin. He continued with the soft backrub. Burying her face in his shoulder, she broke down and he held her until her rigid almost-sobs finally ceased and her whole body softened against his. Ginger hardly ever cried, and it was always a surprise when she did. He stopped rubbing her back and held her tighter, closer even than usually when they danced.</p><p>“Freddie,” she whispered. </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I can’t breathe.” </p><p>“Oh, geez, I’m so sorry!” he stood up and she slid onto her feet abruptly. She straightened her blouse and took a step back from him. “So now what?”</p><p>He stuck his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. “Whatever you want. Whatever will make you happy, Ginge.”</p><p>She considered him, his hazel eyes utterly sincere. She knew he meant what he said. If she called the whole thing off, he’d be unhappy, but he’d respect her wishes, as he’d already proven. If she wanted more… the possibilities made her gasp. The moment stretched between them. He waited patiently, allowing her to decide their future. </p><p>Fred was the only one who seemed to respect her wishes. Lew wanted to possess her and manipulate her; Lela had her own ideas of how Ginger should live her life, and the studio controlled her career. Fred was the only one who accepted her just as she was. Why should she shut him out? Why was he the one who had to go, while the others stayed in her life? Why couldn’t she choose him, even if it was only for a few months a year? </p><p>Decisions crystalized and took form.</p><p>“Well, fellow member of the idiot club,” she said slowly, “YOU make me happy. I’m tired of trying to make everyone else happy.”</p><p>She sat back down onto the step of the stage and he joined her. Fred tucked her under his arm, and she put her hand on his knee, tracing the seam of his slacks with her fingers. They traded glances and looked away, their smiles growing each time. </p><p>Fred took a deep breath. He should have bet on her from the beginning, in New York. He had hesitated because of their age differences, nineteen and thirty-one, and had worried about what people would think. He should have married her back then and moved to Hollywood so she could pursue her dreams. He was an idiot ten times over and a coward to boot. Maybe it wasn’t too late to salvage something. At this point, he would take anything he could get. Anything that would give them time together. He slid away from her and got down on one knee. </p><p>“Well, Ginge, I can’t marry you, for two obvious reasons, named Lew and Phyllis.” He took her hands in his, his voice low and shaky. His hands were shaking, too. “But can I propose something else? What if … we allow ourselves to be together when we’re shooting our movies and with our spouses when we’re not? Could you do that? Would that be okay with you?”</p><p>She considered the compromise. She knew only one thing for certain, that Fred loved her for who she was. And to her, he was the most interesting man she’d ever met. No, she knew two things for certain. She knew that she would always love him, no matter what life threw at her.</p><p>“It would have to be an absolute secret. No one could know. Not Phyllis, not Lew.” </p><p>Fred nodded in somber agreement. </p><p>“And we will absolutely have to deny it if anyone asks. Maybe a lot.”</p><p>Fred nodded again. It wasn’t very palatable, but it was true. She could see him holding his breath, waiting for her decision. </p><p>“It’s no one’s business but ours,” he concurred. Of that he was absolutely certain.</p><p>They sat side by side on the stage in silence. This time, however, it was a much more pleasant silence. Hope danced in the air around them. Fred bumped her with his shoulder. She bumped him back.</p><p>“Did we just agree to something?” he asked, happiness blossoming in his chest. </p><p>“Yeah, I think so.”</p><p>“Yeah, I think so too.” </p><p>Fred didn’t hesitate now. They both leaned in at the same time. His hands tangled in her hair, holding her close, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, as far as she could reach. Their kiss was tender, and went on for a long time, and was full of promise. When they finally broke apart, he stood up and pulled her to her feet. Grabbing their things, they walked slowly to the stage door, hand in hand. </p><p>“So, I’ll see you at rehearsals tomorrow?” he asked, sure of the answer this time. </p><p>“Yes,” she replied, a brilliant, relieved smile on her face. Neither of them wanted to leave, but it was time. If they didn’t leave now, they wouldn’t leave at all. As tempting as that thought was, he didn’t want to just jump straight into bed with her. She meant more to him than just that.</p><p>He paused, his hand on the door, an idea for a night - well, and afternoon – of romance blossoming in his head. “Thursday is Thanksgiving, so rehearsal will be short, but I think Friday’s rehearsal will be short, too, at least for Hal and Hermes. Would you, uh, well. Want to save me the afternoon?”</p><p>“Oh yeah.”</p><p>She leaned up to kiss him one last time, and slipped through the door, knowing that he’d leave a few minutes behind her. It was time to see how their acting skills would work in the real world. </p><p>The masquerade had begun.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chateau Marmont</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A stolen moment begins their new life of sometimes together but always in each other's hearts.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>November 25, 1934 </p>
<p>Friday’s rehearsal dragged, even though the dance was intriguing. The “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes” song was the most romantic thing Ginger had ever heard and the ideas that Fred had for it were amazing. Musicians Jerome Kern and Otto Harbach were musical geniuses. They’d spent the morning listening to the music and just playing to the beat, trying a little of this and that, enjoying the new taps that Fred had taught her and playing off each other for inspiration. Ginger was gaining inspiration all right. Fred kept whispering little tidbits to her under his breath about what he was going to do with her this afternoon, and it was all she could do to not swoon. Hermes and Hal seemed oblivious to the whispering, so she knew Fred was being very sneaky about it. Their taps and rhythms across the stage were joyous and jubilant. It was nice to be working on a happy set again.</p>
<p>Finally, Fred called it. He winked at Ginger before turning back to the other two people in the rehearsal room.</p>
<p>“Gentlemen,” he addressed Hal and Hermes, his voice sad and annoyed. “I have an appointment this afternoon that I can’t get out of.”</p>
<p>Hermes had to turn around and pack up his bag to hide his grin from Hal. Hal obediently left the piano and they all said goodbyes. He left, humming the new tunes, completely engaged in the music. Ginger and Hermes found their jackets, too. However, only Hal actually ended up leaving the soundstage. </p>
<p>“So Hermes, thanks so much for helping us out.” Fred pumped his hand a few dozen times. He wanted this afternoon to go well, and his nerves were showing now. </p>
<p>“Thanks, sweetie,” Ginger kissed Hermes’ cheek, and he gave her a one-armed hug. </p>
<p>“Anything for you, darlin’” he whispered, kissing her brow. He was enjoying this secret match-maker role. “I’ll take Fred first, then come back for you. See you in a bit.”</p>
<p>“Fred, I’m hungry. Do you want me to pick up some lunch?”</p>
<p>“No! Don’t do that!” he snapped quickly. “I have plans!” </p>
<p>“Okay, okay.” She pretended to pout. Inwardly, she was ecstatic and nervous as all get out. Now that they had agreed that they could have a part-time relationship, actually taking the first step in that direction was thrilling. She leaned against the set wall in amusement, and watched him scurry around. </p>
<p>Fred was practically dancing with glee now. He had to return to his dressing room three times before he thought that he had everything, but finally, he apparently had everything he needed. He handed a bulky box to Hermes, too. Since his hands were full, he tapped a little ditty with his street shoes for Ginger that somehow managed to sound suggestive. With a nod to her, the men scooted out the door.<br/>
</p>
<p>The things that man could do with his body amazed her. Her thoughts traveled from his amazing feet to other places and she blushed for thinking that. They would be together again soon enough. Now it was only a matter of minutes. She returned to her director’s style chair, completely alone on the soundstage now, and thumbed through her script, not seeing any of the pages. Nervous anticipation fluttered in her empty stomach. She had no idea what Fred had planned for them, only that it made him giggle like a naughty schoolboy. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>*************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Finally, a knock on the door startled her, even though she’d been expecting it. Hermes opened the door and gestured to her. “Your carriage awaits, madam.” </p>
<p>“What’s he up to?” she asked curiously. </p>
<p>“Oh no, you’ll have to see for yourself.” Fred wasn’t the only one grinning like a naughty school boy now. Hermes wore the same expression. “It’s truly lovely, though, and I’m a bit jealous.”</p>
<p>She knew that he actually wasn’t. Even though he was gay, he and Fred were truly just friends. Fred was straight as an arrow, for one thing. A lot of people assumed that all male dancers were a bit light in the loafers. That wasn’t true. Well, at least it wasn’t true for Fred. When he’d worked on Broadway, a whole lot of people, male and female alike, had been disappointed. She smugly smiled that she had not been one of them.</p>
<p>The ride took only a few moments or forever, depending on which second it was. Ginger’s stomach flip flopped as Hermes stopped at a light on Sunset Boulevard and he turned to her. </p>
<p>“Okay, when you go through the entryway, immediately turn right along the brick path closest to the wall. At the Y intersection, go right. Follow it all the way down to Cottage 83. Got it?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” she whispered, trying to remember the instructions and anticipate where they were going. Sunset seemed like an unlikely place, with it’s bars and restaurants and shops. Surely Fred would be careful of their anonymity. </p>
<p>It all made sense a moment later, when Hermes took a tiny side road off Sunset and idled in front of the Chateau Marmont. She bussed him on the cheek as she scooted out of the car and hurried inside.<br/>
</p>
<p>The Chateau Marmont was a new hotel, just a few years old, built in 1927 in the Hollywood Hills above Sunset Boulevard. It's central tower loomed over Sunset Boulevard and it's extensive grounds contained numerous cottages and apartments, all hidden behind lush grounds. It was already gaining a good reputation as an actor’s hotel. She actually knew a few people who had lived here for a few months at a time. However, it was expensive and it gave her a warm glow to think that Fred had splurged on this. </p>
<p>Inside the entry way, she quickly passed the valet parking attendants and the actual entrance to the hotel with her hat covering her face and kept her distinctive eyes down. After successfully navigating through the one area where she could have most likely been recognized, to her left, she could see the seven story hotel, with it’s brick lined patios and covered seating area outside the restaurant. However, it was partially obscured by potted palm trees and banana trees, their large leaves providing privacy. Bamboo planted in bricked-in beds further contributed to the privacy screen. She picked up her feet on the dark brick path, not wanting to trip. Bougainvillea trailed over the side of the wall on her right, along with hanging planters of flowers in iron banded pots. Fig trees, with their distinctive leaves, shadowed the path, with ferns and other shade loving plants underneath, all adding to the privacy the landscaping created. It was beautiful, but she hurried her steps. Something more beautiful awaited her at the end of the path. </p>
<p>A cottage appeared just behind a couple of small orange trees and more ferns and a series of tiny fountains and pools. The number 83 was prominent above the door, with two leaded glass windows on either side and a colorful stained glass motif on the actual door. She gave it a good rap with her knuckles. The door cracked open, a strong hand yanked her inside and immediately covered her eyes, and the door clicked shut behind them.</p>
<p>She knew it was Fred. His lightly scented aftershave was instantly recognizable, as was the strong arm wrapped around her waist and the hand covering her eyes. His strong body pressed behind her was as well known to her as her own. Hours upon hours of dancing together had made him feel as if he were an extension of her own form. He was warm and comfortable and smelled good. She could definitely get used to this.</p>
<p>“Hey, what’s the big idea?” she teased, her own hands raising to touch his hand over her eyes.</p>
<p>He let go and gestured her into the cottage in welcome. </p>
<p>The room was darker than she had expected from the outside Los Angeles early winter sunlight. She had to blink several times before her eyes adjusted. A half dozen beeswax candles burned in holders throughout the room, their sweet honey scent filling the air. She stood in the small living room, simply furnished with a couch and end tables and lamps. Further on, she saw the small office nook. Taking a few steps into the room, she could see a tiny kitchen to the left, a bathroom nearly the same size as the kitchen and a bedroom to the right. Turning back to her dance partner, she could see that Fred was smartly dressed in a suit and she desperately wished that she had worn a dress. Her rehearsal slacks seemed woefully inadequate next to his well put together outfit. He took her coat and hung it on the coat tree next to his and pulled the white lace curtains closed, even though the room faced the path and was very private.</p>
<p>He gestured her towards the bedroom. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he brooked no argument. His hand on her back steered her, and to her surprise, he pushed her inside and did not join her. Then she saw why, and she sighed in contentment. How well he knew her. On the bed was a gorgeous midnight blue dress, laid out just for her, with a pair of low heels next to them. She pulled them on, and of course they fit her exact measurements. Sometimes Fred’s obsession with perfection worked out nicely. </p>
<p>She stepped out into the living room, adequately glamourous now, and twirled around just for him. She loved how his eyes followed her every move and traveled over her body. His sultry smile made her breath quicken.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” she said, feeling properly attired for an evening of dancing and whatever followed.</p>
<p>Fred dashed to the side table, and the boxed record player. He stood up with a mischievous grin and the soft music of Shostakovich’s Waltz #2 filled the room. </p>
<p>A lump formed in her throat. The Second Waltz was what he had played for her in his apartment in New York when they were first dating. They had danced for hours, holding each other close. His hazel eyes glowing softly in the candlelight showed her that he had not forgotten. He crossed the small room to her and, clicking his heels together, held out his hand.<br/>
</p>
<p>“Dance with me?” His eyes seemed to see into her soul, and his smile was all for her.</p>
<p>“Always,” she replied and allowed him to sweep her into his arms. </p>
<p>They moved as one around the small room, their movements exactly mirrored without much effort, her new dress swirling about their legs. She inhaled deeply and melted in to his frame on the exhale. Her favorite dance was always a waltz. They could dance to a waltz without even thinking of their feet. As sometimes happened, they became the dance somehow, lost to the rhythm. His lean body pressed against hers and they moved gently to the music. His hands slowly caressed her back, flat against her skin and every one of her senses tingled at his touch. She let her head drop to the side, and he pushed aside her curls so that he could kiss and suck on her collarbone. She pulled on the scarf he used as a belt, holding him tight against her. The low light and the honey scent of the candles made the dance even more perfect. </p>
<p>She was eventually distracted, however, by the aroma of delicious smelling food emanating from the kitchen. She would have liked to stay there forever, dancing with Fred in the candle-lit room. However, her stomach had it’s own agenda, and a loud rumble interrupted their waltz. </p>
<p>‘Oh my, I am so sorry,” she apologized, “Something besides you smells good.” </p>
<p>“Come see!” He led her by the hand into the kitchen area. Seating her at the tiny table, he dashed back into the living room for some of the candles, placed them around the kitchen and grabbed oven mitts next. She tried to see around him to observe what he was pulling from the warm oven. Fred carefully out a huge warming bin, and set it gingerly on the countertop on folded towels. He picked up a plate and gestured her over to him. </p>
<p>“I ordered a variety of dinners and hors d'oeuvres. What would you like?” </p>
<p>She jumped up and joined him at the small countertop. Fred hadn’t done anything by halves. The spread was impressive. Each platter sported a small card with the description of the dish. It all sounded good, and her stomach growled again, amusing them both. There were plates of smoke trout deviled eggs, buffalo mozzarella with perfect red tomatoes and basil; and a roasted tomato bruschetta on toasted garlic rubbed rounds. On larger plates, there was perfectly grilled steak with sides of creamy polenta topped with wild mushrooms, and buttery haricot verts; buttermilk friend chicken with mashed potatoes, gravy, steamed spinach and biscuits &amp;  honey; scallops in a sage and browned butter sauce with steamed squash and buttered rolls, and a ham wrapped in bacon with honey glazed carrots and a cheesy potato au gratin. She wanted to sample a little bit of each, and Fred dutifully served it out. Setting it at her side of the table, he poured her a glass of ice water from the refrigerator. There was also a champagne flute and he poured her a miniscule amount, remembering that she did not drink. He poured himself an inch only after settling in with his own plate. He raised his glass to her, and she raised hers. </p>
<p>“To us, the founding members of our own personal Idiot Club; may we seize the day.” His eyes twinkled at her over the rim.</p>
<p>She could drink to that. Taking a tiny sip of her champagne without a fuss, she liked how the fizz tingled her nose and was just enough for a toast and nothing more. Alcohol made her feel woozy and she did not at all like feeling out of control under it’s influence, or of losing memories. She had drank to black out condition a few times when she was in her teens and supremely unhappy; it had led to a lot of trouble and stupidity, and she had sworn off alcohol ever since. </p>
<p>“Oh, this is good!” Fred tore into his chicken, using a fork and knife. She’d never seen anyone eat fried chicken that way before, and tried not to stare. </p>
<p>“From the hotel restaurant, I presume?” she asked, taking a bite of everything on her plate, savoring the flavors. Each was more wonderful than the last. The aroma was heavenly.</p>
<p>He nodded, very pleased with himself. After a morning of rehearsal dancing for several hours, they’d worked up an appetite and in short order, a large portion of the food was devoured. Fred diligently packed up the rest of the food and put it in the fridge. Finally, when they were reduced to enjoying nibbles off of each other’s forks, a drop of gravy escaped and dropped onto her cleavage. Fred reached across the table, scooped it up with his finger and slowly licked it clean. She hummed in delight at the sight.</p>
<p>Well, two could play that flirty game. Underneath the table, Ginger toed off her heel. Just like she had several years ago, she began to run her stocking foot up Fred’s leg. The last time, at Sardi’s Restaurant in NYC, the booth had the seats far enough apart that she could only get her foot up to his knees. Here, however, they were much closer together. She ran her foot all the way up Fred’s leg to his crotch. His fork clattered to the plate as she wiggled her toes against his genitals. Now it was her turn to make him flush. He didn’t try to suppress his moan either, and it ramped up the tension in the room. He loosened his tie and made a fanning motion with his hands at her. It was getting hot in the kitchen, for sure. </p>
<p>“So, how much time do we have?” she asked.</p>
<p>“As much time as you want, baby,” he answered.  She could feel his erection growing as she dug her toes in a bit more.</p>
<p>“Are we planning on staying in the kitchen all afternoon?” he playfully rolled his eyes back and slumped in his chair. Underneath the table, he pushed her toes away and moaned.</p>
<p>“Oh hell no, let’s go,” she said, and pulled him to his feet. Grabbing his tie, she dragged him into the bedroom. He willingly jumped out of the chair, but had to adjust things in order to walk. Ginger smirked and walked backwards as he hobbled after her.</p>
<p>As soon as she let go of him, however, he dashed back into the kitchen for the candles. Apparently the candles were following them room to room. Setting them carefully in place, he closed the curtains against the bright afternoon sun, making the room into an approximation of a romantic evening. She watched him in amusement as he rushed around making things just right.<br/>

</p><p>“Freddie! It’s good enough,” she laughed, catching him as he dashed about.</p>
<p>He spun away, as if dancing, but caught her hands at the last second and yanked them together until they were an inch apart, face to face. </p>
<p> “Oh, I like that move. It needs to go in a dance some time.”</p>
<p>Leave it to Fred to be thinking of dance moves when all she wanted to do was get him naked. </p>
<p>“You’re incorrigible,” she murmured, undoing his tie and tossing it on the only chair in the room. His shirt followed shortly thereafter. He didn’t protest as she gradually stripped him naked, piece by piece.<br/>
</p>
<p>It was easy to sometimes imagine that Fred was born in a tuxedo or a well-tailored suit. He seldom wore anything less in public. However, under the clothing that hid his body, he was exquisite. She was continually awed by his trim physique. There wasn’t an extra ounce of flesh on him. He could be a model for the perfection of the human body, a near perfect form disguised by clothing. Now, in the darkened bedroom, he was hers to explore and enjoy. She ran her hands over him; the strong legs that could dance for hours, the long arms that held her tight, the big hands that were one of the secrets of their success. Stroking her hands down his chest and stomach, she went lower and played with his balls carefully, until his breathing became ragged. His eyes closed in pleasure, and she grasped his dick and stroked him slowly and lazily, taking her time. He arched into her hands and bit his lip to keep from crying out. A few more strokes and he did moan, and frantically caught at her hand, stilling her actions. </p>
<p>“Oh god, wait, wait, if you keep that up, I’m gonna pop right now,” he gasped, bright hazel eyes on hers now. “Please, stop. I want to be inside you when I come.”</p>
<p>He was rock hard, and that just couldn’t be comfortable, but if that’s what he wanted, then fine. She looked at him doubtfully. </p>
<p>He smiled, a little lopsided grin that caught at her heart. </p>
<p>“Your turn,” he announced. “Ladies first.”</p>
<p>A frizzle of nervous anticipation fluttered in her stomach. </p>
<p>Turning her around, he slowly unzipped the midnight blue dress, slipping it off her shoulders and sliding it down to the floor. She stepped out of it, wearing only a pair of lacy black underwear and her heels. She began to kick them off, when he stopped her. </p>
<p>“I kind of like that look,” he murmured in her ear. He walked all the way around her. His eyes devoured her, and she felt the room heat up at his gaze, or maybe it was all her. After a moment, he dropped his head between her shoulder blades and his hands caressed her torso until they moved up to cup her breasts. “And these are just the right size.”</p>
<p>He began to kiss her shoulders while he twiddled her nipples. If he was going to rev up her motor, this was definitely the right way to go about it. Not that she hadn’t been getting wet for him from the moment that she’d stepped through the door. Her clit twitched with every touch and she wanted nothing more than to turn around and drag him into the bed, but he firmly had her where he wanted her and just like when they danced, she let him lead the way. She could wait. She was going to have him more than once this afternoon if she had anything to say about it. She had been waiting for this for a long time.</p>
<p>Sensing her growing desire, he dropped to his knees and slid the black panties off to join the dress on the floor and allowed her to step out of the heels. He tossed them all out of the way. Grasping her hips, he tugged her down onto the floor with him, carefully guiding her. </p>
<p>“Fred, what are we…” she began, but didn’t finish the sentence. “Oh…”</p>
<p>He knelt behind her, resting on his own legs, and pulled her flush against him on her knees. She could feel his hard cock flush between her butt cheeks as he pressed against her back. Reaching around her, he gently moved her knees apart until she was spread open. She pushed back against him and moaned as he inserted two warm, long fingers inside of her, sliding into her hot, slippery wetness. He slid his fingers deep and nearly out again, over and over, curling his big fingers slightly to add to her pleasure. He started slowly but quickly gained speed and he held her firmly with his other hand so that she couldn’t move very far. He breathed into her neck and absorbed every sound she made and every push against his hand with her strong dancer’s body. With his thumb, he began stoking her clit with every push, and her breath became frantic and uneven. Her hands grasped his arms tightly. A few more firm strokes, and she was coming, convulsing around his fingers tightly and crying out in pleasure. He kept up the thrusts, slower now, milking every ecstatic contraction. Finally, he stilled, his fingers filling her up. He continued to hold her tightly and just enjoyed the feeling of her whole body relaxing against him. </p>
<p>“God damn, Freddie, I’ve missed you,” she whispered, turning her head towards him over her shoulder. He leaned forward enough so that they could share a kiss. She moaned into his mouth when he extracted his fingers, and her hot shuddering breath sending shivers down his spine. He had every intention of licking his fingers clean but she grabbed his hand and instead slipped them into her own mouth. His eyes widened in amazement. </p>
<p>“Oh, god, come here,” he demanded, and manhandled her around to face him. He wrapped one hand in her hair and pulled her close with the other. Diving into her mouth, he swirled his tongue against hers and sucked her own fluids off her tongue. The taste of her nearly drove him wild, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could delay his own orgasm. His self-control was hanging by a thread already.</p>
<p>“Do you know what you do to me?” he asked. His eyes were desperate and dark.</p>
<p>She did, in fact, know exactly that, and was well aware of how close he was. She had every intention of driving him over that edge. He was so polished and refined all the time, but she knew exactly how to tap into that wild, feral core of him that seldom came to light. She pushed away from him, shoving his hands off of her body and leaped up onto the bed. </p>
<p>She gave him her sexiest “come hither” look and quirked her finger at him to join her.</p>
<p>He was wicked fast. He took one leap and crawled towards her where she’d scooted, surprising her so much that she yelped in delight. Pretending to fend him off, she allowed him to grab her wrists and push her down. Shoving her legs apart, he slid into her, his dancer’s flexibility working to his advantage. Pushing into her until he was balls deep, he let his full weight drop onto her. </p>
<p>“I’m going to fuck you into this mattress,” he growled, pinning her hips down with his, and holding her wrists. She writhed against him. She threw her head back onto the pillow, blond curly hair billowing around her, blue eyes wide. </p>
<p>“Yes, please,” she begged, and that’s all it took. </p>
<p>Knowing that she was not anywhere near as fragile as she looked, he let go of his restraint and pounded into her. Months of wanting her and thinking she was beyond him forever made him wild with desire. She met him thrust for thrust. She wanted him just as much, and nothing else existed. She was so tight around him, being engorged from her own recent orgasm that the pleasure was nearly too much. He wasn’t going to last long. He grabbed her legs as she wrapped them around his waist for even more leverage, and thrust into her repeatedly. When she began moaning and cursing in a most unladylike way, he lost it and climaxed spectacularly, spurting deep inside of her and curling hard into her, every muscle in his body straining with the strength of his orgasm. Collapsing against her, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, he felt her come a second time, contracting around him. Her sigh of pleasure was music to his ears.</p>
<p>“Oh god, Ginge,” he repeated over and over, nearly incoherent. Eventually, he regained the breath he never lost while dancing, but only with her in bed. He slid out reluctantly, and snuggled in next to her, their legs intertwined. Her arms held him tightly and she murmured sweet nothings into his ear as the both came down from their high. </p>
<p>“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, “You are my thanksgiving.”</p>
<p>“Oh, baby, that’s a sweet thing to say.” She ran her hands through his thinning hair, and brushed back the sweaty locks from his face. She wasn’t sure that he’d heard her, though. His eyes were already closing. Since one of them should probably stay awake, she busied herself with re-memorizing every line of his body as he draped himself over and around her. Fred slept like an octopus, all long arms and legs everywhere. </p>
<p>After a while, Fred jerked awake. He pushed himself up and looked straight into Ginger’s bemused face. </p>
<p>“Hey sailor, come here often?” she teased.</p>
<p>“Oh, hell, did I fall asleep? I’m sorry!” </p>
<p>He sat all the way up and rubbed at his face. Reaching over to the chair, he fumbled around until he found his wristwatch.</p>
<p>“Oh good, only four o’clock,” he said, relieved. They could still have a couple of hours together until Hermes came for Ginger at six. “But I didn’t want to waste any of our time today!”</p>
<p>“There’ll be other days,” she answered. The idea of more time together made them both smile. “I’m hungry, again. Anything left in the fridge?”</p>
<p>Fred leapt up from the bed without another word. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, he wrapped it around his waist and padded to the kitchen. In a moment he returned, cradling one bowl of crème brule and one of chocolate and dulce de leche pudding, and two spoons. </p>
<p>“Which one would you like?” he asked, showing her the offerings. </p>
<p>“Both, silly.” She giggled, “sit down and we’ll share them.”</p>
<p>They dipped their spoons in and sighed in delight. The pudding was rich and smooth, and the crème brule was a delicious textural contrast of the smooth custard base with its crunchy caramelized sugar topping. They traded bites and then Ginger got silly by putting dolops of the desserts on her belly and letting Fred slurp them off. It didn’t work nearly as well when she flipped him onto the bed and tried, as he was much more ticklish and laughed too much and the pudding slid down his side onto the sheet. </p>
<p>Stealing the bowl from him, and shoveling in the last bites of the crème brule, Ginger took the dishes and dumped them into the sink for housekeeping to wash later. Returning to the bedroom, it was impossible not to notice that Fred was clearly aroused again. Laying on his back, his erection was obvious.</p>
<p>She paused in the doorway, looking him up and down. She didn’t know why she was so smitten with him. His head was too big, as was his chin and ears, his body skinny and his hands were enormously outsized for his frame. Hollywood was full of gorgeous men, and he didn’t stand a chance against them, but he had won her over despite it all, easily and charmingly. He was anxious, obsessive, a workaholic, incredibly talented and kindly but such an odd duck. Maybe it was because he was such a gentleman to her. Oh, not in the manners department, though that was also true, but how he treated her. He never expected her to be crude or lewd or to go against her values. She knew that compared to a lot of other actresses, she was on the prudish side, and he never would ask her to betray that. She didn’t drink or do any drugs or any of those type of things that Hollywood was known for, nor did she revel in violence nor brutish behavior. He liked that about her, and in many ways he mirrored those values. Not that she couldn’t get down and dirty with him, but that was always private. He was not the kiss and tell type. He treated her with respect, and she appreciated it. She wouldn’t have traded him for a million other men, if it was her choice. He was one of a kind, and for this moment, this precious moment, he was hers.</p>
<p>“Any chance of an encore?” he asked, his boyish face hopeful. He waggled his eyebrows at her. Here was another example. Some men, including her husband, wouldn’t have phrased this as a pleasant request and been willing to take no for an answer. And because he was so willing to respect her person, she felt incredibly safe with him. Safe and playful. </p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure you’re thirty five, not eighteen? You sure you can handle me? I might be hard to handle, as the song goes.” </p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure I’ll manage just fine.”</p>
<p>She shook her head dubiously but straddled him nonetheless. Adjusting to his penetration, she slowly wriggled her hips to get settled, knowing that it would drive him wild. The muscles in her dancer’s legs held him tightly. Below her, Fred moaned in ecstasy at the movement. His large hand caressed her thighs as she began to move. Grinding against him, rocking together, they made love slowly, enjoying the sensations and the sight of each other taking pleasure. When they orgasmed, it was nearly at the same time, and couldn’t have been better choreographed than if it were a planned dance move. </p>
<p>Afterwards, it was Fred who suggested reluctantly that they shower and get ready for Hermes to take her back to the studio for her car. Running out of time, they quickly soaped up and changed back into their rehearsal clothes. Ginger pulled the plate of the remainders of the ham wrapped bacon out of the refrigerator and nibbled on pieces while they waited for Hermes to knock.</p>
<p>“Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Freddie,” she said. She popped a piece of bacon into her mouth. </p>
<p>He leaned in and kissed her. She tasted of salt and smoke. </p>
<p>“You’re welcome, baby. Since I can’t take you out to dinner, this will have to suffice.”</p>
<p>That actually hadn’t occurred to Ginger. They would never be able to go out to dinner together, or to the movies or dancing. Their entire romance would have to be secret and contained to moments like this. It made her a little bit sad. She vowed to herself that she would do everything in her power to make these moments count. Especially since they couldn’t really depend on any more moments, just hope for them, and plan for them to the best of their abilities. Her melancholy didn’t last long. After all, they had a whole movie ahead of them, and the script had some really fun moments for their characters and some fabulously romantic dances. Fred’s insistence on a private, locked stage was genius. The next couple of months were going to be a lot of fun.</p>
<p>“Freddie, whatever moments we can squeeze in, I’m all in.”</p>
<p>The love shining in his eyes was all that she needed. Maybe some day that would change, but for now, it was more than enough. </p>
<p>He nodded, pleased. The afternoon had gone better than he had even dared to imagine. </p>
<p>A soft, distinctive knock on the door interrupted them. It was Hermes.  </p>
<p>Ginger grabbed her coat and purse and opened the door just far enough to ask him to wait two seconds. Leaning back towards Fred, she pulled him close by his jacket and kissed him one more time.<br/>
</p>
<p>“See you at rehearsals on Monday.”</p>
<p>“See you then, sweetheart.” </p>
<p>With that, she slipped out the door with Hermes and disappeared. When their secret keeper arrived a half hour later, Fred had tidied up and left a generous tip for the housekeeping staff. Sneaking down the brick path, he hid behind a hedge of bamboo until he heard the car horn, and zipped out into his friend’s waiting car. Cruising back to the studio to pick up his own vehicle, he couldn’t help the smile on his face. </p>
<p>This movie was definitely going to be a lot of fun.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Serendipity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fred and Ginger spend a lovely holiday together in secret before filming starts on "Roberta".</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sound stage echoed with their laughter as they put the finishing touches on the dance that would be called “Lovely To Look At.” Their characters in the movie, Huck and Lizzie, are supposed to be falling in love again – rekindling an old romance – and the parallels to their own situation were too many to list, so it was very easy to give Fred her best bedroom eyes while on the dance floor. It felt appropriate and risqué at the same time. Fred was making moon eyes at her now and whispering inappropriate things under his breath. It was making the day go by faster, but she was getting impatient. She tolerated his insistence on having rehearsals on Christmas Eve and Christmas day only because it was an opportunity to spend some time with him on holidays. However, after long hours of rehearsal, she was beginning to lose patience. When it wasn’t fun, it wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t going to be the first to say that she wanted to go home, though. At this point, it was an unvoiced challenge and she liked winning.</p>
<p>Fred twirled her around by just his fingertips. For some reason, and she couldn’t fathom why, he insisted upon going very slowly through the whole dance; over and over and over again. Surely the audience would be bored. She’d been dancing this same dance sequence for most of an hour now and SHE was certainly bored. She mind was wandering, and she wanted to go home and open presents with Lela and Phyll and even Lew, who was being super sweet to her lately, and eat whatever Lela had been working on since dawn. She did not particularly want to do this whole dance all day, even with Fred humming happily in her ear. This was excruciating. </p>
<p>“Fred, isn’t this, isn’t… this… rather… slow?” she said finally and let him twirl her around again. The worst part was their fingertips were the only part of their bodies touching. If his hands were all over her, that would be one thing. But it was only his fingertips. It was driving her crazy. </p>
<p>“I…want…it….to…be…this…slow.” He punctuated each word with another slow twirl. </p>
<p>“Oh…okay.” She answered. She’d just have to wait him out. Sometimes his reasons were unfathomable. </p>
<p>Suddenly he spun her out much faster and then yanked her to him. Both Hermes and Hal startled at the piano. They were as bored as Ginger was.</p>
<p>“Really, I was just seeing how long you’d go along with that.” He grinned at her, completely unrepentant at having completely wasted an hour of everyone’s time. </p>
<p>“Oh, you! Fred, I should find a lump of coal for you for Christmas Eve.” She mimed slapping him, “And thump you over the head with it.”</p>
<p>Immediately he spun her out into a much more appropriate tempo, and they moved briskly around the dance floor, giggling together, the fun suddenly back on the menu. With his hands swinging her around the dance floor properly; this was much more to her liking. The lively steps were what Fred and she had hammered out for the encore dance, and it was going to be a lot of fun to dance that in front of everyone. It was fun dancing it just in rehearsal, especially because Fred now kept letting his hands slip off her waist and roam when Hal and Hermes weren’t looking.</p>
<p>However, Hermes and Hal were mostly looking at their wrist watches at this point. They both had other places to be besides on a rehearsal stage on Christmas Eve. She and Fred kept dancing, flowing around the hardwood floor, but even he was beginning to clue to the glances she kept giving the other men as she watched them become more and more impatient, and their faces more and more glum.<br/>
</p>
<p>“What is it, Ginge?” he whispered, his arm around her waist and their feet moving in unison. </p>
<p>“I think the boys want to get out of here, Freddie,” she answered, pointing with her thumb at their co-workers. “They have lives and plans of their own, you know.”</p>
<p>He sighed and tapped the sequence that led to the dip. They swirled around one another in a perfect sequence of movement. However, when she did the dip, he didn’t bring her back up. Instead, he kept lowering her until she was on the ground. A mischievous grin crossed his features. She sat up and glowered playfully at him.</p>
<p>“Hal, Hermes, I’m getting tired. I dropped Ginger,” he shrugged to the two men. “Why don’t we call it a day and get out of here?”</p>
<p>Of course, the two men didn’t believe for a second that Fred would ever drop his dancing partner, but they were definitely willing to end the rehearsal. </p>
<p>Hal got up and stretched. He’d been at the piano for six hours now and wondered why he’d even been called in today. He suspected that at the moment, though, he was just live music performing exclusively for the two dancers. They hadn’t done any new moves for two weeks now on the three dances, just going over and over the sequences until they were muscle memory. Not that he cared all that much. As long as he got to play the piano to an appreciative audience and got paid well for it, it was all good with him. He began to collect his things and stuff them into his duffle bag. Quickly, before Fred changed his mind.</p>
<p>“Thanks, boss,” Hermes said, and yawned. He had even less to do than Hal. They had hammered out each dance several weeks ago and he’d watched them dance now until his eyes crossed. There was nothing else he could improve upon. He didn’t even want to do any more strength training or conditioning with Ginger, like he did at the beginning of each film, which was a fun challenge in itself. Now, he just sat around and bothered Hal mostly. Sometimes Hal would play and begin to fall asleep and he liked to see how long he could go before the beat dropped off and someone noticed. Or, when Fred and Ginger disappeared into their dressing rooms, they played cards until they returned. They didn’t ask any more questions. Occasionally, they had time to leave, get lunch and return. Again, they didn’t put their noses into the dancers’ business. Hermes knew this was their gifted time to one another, besides actually rehearsing and dancing. All in all, it was a very comfortable situation, if completely non-traditional. The real work actually began when filming started. He grabbed his coat and things and turned to say his goodbyes.</p>
<p>Fred was standing behind him and holding out a small, wrapped box with an even smaller box on top with an even tinier on top of that. Ginger stood at his elbow with another boxed trio, held out to Hal. Both had grins a mile wide. </p>
<p>“Open it!” she asked, clapping her hands together in glee. “It’s from both of us!”</p>
<p>Hal and Hermes exchanged a look and ripped off the wrapping paper together. Inside the tiniest box was a silver tie clip and inside the middle package was a set of matching silver cuff links. Each link was a beautiful silver filagree Celtic style knot and there was a matching knot on the tie bar. Fred’s sister Adele had married into Irish nobility, Lord Charles Cavendish of Ireland, and a new interest in everything Irish was Fred’s newest obsession. The jewelry sparkled in their cases. As they opened the third box, both men gasped simultaneously. A matching silver money clip held a big wad of twenty dollar bills. </p>
<p>Hal hadn’t expected anything much from his co-workers. He was absolutely stunned. He suddenly felt like a schmuck for the pretty but functional wool scarves he’d gifted the pair earlier in the day. He saw Fred begin to open his arms and didn’t resist when he pulled him in for a bracing hug, with much back slapping.</p>
<p>“You didn’t think that we don’t appreciate what you’re doing for us, do you?” Fred asked, releasing him. Hal babbled out his thanks as Ginger moved forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, too. Her light perfume lingered in the air as she stepped back. He again thanked the couple and walked to the door looking slightly boggled. </p>
<p>“Don’t forget, no rehearsal tomorrow on Christmas but we’ll see you the day after!” </p>
<p>Hal waved as he disappeared behind the set and the boom of the door followed shortly thereafter.</p>
<p>Hermes didn’t settle for a peck on the cheek. He squeezed Ginger and picked her up off of her feet, swirling her around. She was light as a feather and felt tiny in his strong arms. </p>
<p>“Thanks, Ginge,” he smiled, as he set her carefully down on her feet. “Thanks, Fred! That’s really swell of you.”</p>
<p>“Aw, Hermes, we don’t know what we would do without you,” Fred said earnestly. He gave him a real hug and held on to him for a moment longer than a typical hug, hoping the affection and appreciation he felt towards their friend would be understood. Ginger appeared on his other side and squeezed Hermes, too. </p>
<p>Hermes decided that being in the middle of a Fred and Ginger sandwich was pretty nice, but only up to a point. Being slightly taller than Fred, he saw him give Ginger a wink and that was enough hugging for the day. He had enough time to be a go-between. He didn’t need to be in the middle of them literally as they made eyes at one another. </p>
<p>“Okay, kids, I’m going home,” he announced, returning their squeezes, and wriggling out from their embraces. “Thank you and merry Christmas!” </p>
<p>They laughingly let him go. He grabbed his coat and hat and started for the door.</p>
<p>“Oh, wait, I nearly forgot!” Hermes pulled out an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to Ginger with a wink. Grabbing his things, he strode quickly off the soundstage. The booming of the door let them know exactly when he was gone. </p>
<p>“Well, don’t just stand there, open it!” Fred prompted, hovering over her shoulder.</p>
<p>She carefully unsealed the envelope. In beautiful calligraphy, it was a piece of heavy paper and it read:</p>
<p>“Whatever you want, whatever you need<br/>
Just call on me, your friend indeed<br/>
Midnight rides or a daytime dance<br/>
Rendezvous never left to chance<br/>
I’m your guy, you can count on me<br/>
I’m at your beck and call<br/>
Your friend, third wheel -<br/>
Hermes”</p>
<p>Ginger was already giggling by the time she finished reading. Glancing over at Fred, pressed behind her, she was surprised to see him a bit teary eyed. </p>
<p>“Oh, my,” he said, “I love him. I do. Sorry, Ginge, I’m leaving you for Hermes,” Fred declared. What a wonderful friend he was. He would be forever grateful that Ginger had introduced them. </p>
<p>“Well, that would be nice for Hermes, but not so nice for me,” Ginger pretended to pout. She handed Fred the note and crossed her arms. </p>
<p>“Oh, baby, don’t be like that,” Fred scolded. He sidled up behind her and hugged her close. “I kind of like that pouty look, though. I’m totally adding it to the other dance. But don’t fret. I have something for you, too.”</p>
<p>Now that Hermes and Hal had left for the night, she snuggled back into his arms. Fluttering her eye lashes at him playfully over her shoulder, she purred, “Oh yeah? I can feel something in your pocket. Is that where you’re hiding it?”</p>
<p>Fred snorted and turned her around. “Well, that’s one thing I have for you. But not the one I was referring to.”</p>
<p>She pretended to pout again as he shook his head.</p>
<p>“We don’t have time right now, dammit. I got all caught up in dancing and now I’ve got to be home for a 7pm Christmas Eve church service and then festivities after.” </p>
<p>That he would be spending the holidays with Phyllis and Peter was just something that she’d have to get used to. It seemed to her that they were interlopers, just a strange interruption to her four years of knowing Fred. That Phyllis had a better claim on Fred than she did officially just made her blood boil. She regretted shutting the door on him in NYC. If she had known that their life paths would cross again, she would have made different choices. </p>
<p>She herself was going home to Lew, and Lela and Phyll had already taken over her kitchen to prepare a nice dinner. As everyone knew Ginger had to work tomorrow, too, they would be doing it all again tomorrow night after she got off work, whenever that would be. Her arrangements probably didn’t make Fred any happier, either. What idiots they both were. </p>
<p>“You’re enjoying making me wait. Are we really having rehearsal tomorrow?” she said, changing the subject reluctantly, before she really got resentful, “I noticed that you don’t have Hermes or Hal coming in.”</p>
<p>“Uh, no. It’s just a you and me rehearsal. Starts at 8am and you can meet me here. Don’t be late. Dress warmly and casually.” </p>
<p>“Those are my favorite kind of rehearsals.” Well, that was something. They would get to spend part of Christmas day together. She wrapped her arms around his neck tighter. “I have something for you, too. But it can wait until tomorrow, too.”</p>
<p>They walked to the door together, hand in hand. He helped her on with her heavy wool coat, and they shared a quick kiss. The promise that they could see each other tomorrow would be another gift. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>***************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eight am arrived early. Ginger and Fred ditched her car at the studio and cruised down Sunset Boulevard to where it connected to the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu. Now, they motored up the highway in the bright morning sunshine. A whole stretch of highway was lined with construction work, and a hundred men dressed against the cold worked on putting up some very nice houses. She ducked down in the seat so that none of them recognized her. She sipped her tea instead. The sweater wrapped canning jar full of hot tea helped keep her hands warm. She rubbed at her tired eyes. She had stayed up late opening gifts and then they had started singing Christmas carols while she played the piano for them. Lew actually had a really nice voice, and they’d sang and played until midnight, which was super late for Ginger. Being up late and exhausted had helped her avoid Lew’s half-hearted amorous intentions, fortunately. She didn’t fancy having sex with Lew and then getting up in the morning and making love to Fred, which she hoped was in the plans for the day. She yawned and looked out the window.</p>
<p>The pretty coastline along the PCH was definitely something to look at. The dark blue waters edged with white caps splashed up against the sandy beaches in a steady rhythm. The Christmas sunshine was bright but gave no warmth. She tugged Hal’s gift scarf more tightly around her neck and wished Fred’s heater worked better.  </p>
<p>After driving for a while in companionable silence, she reminded him, since he wouldn’t tell her where they were going or when they’d be back, “I have to be back by 5 or 6, tonight.”</p>
<p>“I know, so do I,” he answered. He had that gleeful look in his eye again and tapped his fingers maniacally against the steering wheel while watching her out of the corner of his eyes. She hoped he was keeping enough of an eye on the road. An accident with both of them in the car, on Christmas, would be difficult to explain.</p>
<p>Finally, they reached the sleepy town of Santa Barbara. The palm lined promenade curving around the bay was really beginning to be something to see. Each year the city added something new to the ocean front walkway. However, Fred put them on the road that began to zig zag its way up to the top of the bluffs overlooking the town. He put the car in a lower gear, and they crawled upwards. </p>
<p>Ginger let out the breath that she didn’t know she was holding as they eased out onto the road that overlooked it all. The views were breathtaking, with miles of Pacific Ocean in view, and the whole of Los Angeles county curving away out of sight both to the north and south. </p>
<p>Finally, Fred pulled the car into the drive a small house on top of the hill. Fenced property surrounded it, giving it the look of a little oasis in the middle of a large plot of chaparral, live oak trees, and horse pasture. A large barn sat on the back end of the lot, surrounded by more perfect white fencing. He turned off the motor and jumped out, opening her door for her. </p>
<p>“Is this the destination?” she asked. </p>
<p>“Yes, come inside!” he grabbed her bag and his, and let them inside with the key under the front mat. </p>
<p>Ginger reflected that these little secret rendezvous could become a delightful habit. </p>
<p>The little house was small, just two bedrooms, and decorated with a comfortable but simple style. The front window had a spectacular view of the ocean, and so did the bedroom on that side. A fire, all ready to be lit, was set up in the river stone fireplace. The entire home was also decorated for Christmas, complete with a little tree. It smelled spicy, like the evergreen branches woven over the fireplace, the mantlepiece surrounding beeswax candles, and the swag with ornaments and ribbon on the back of the closed door. Under the tree were several beautifully wrapped gifts. She looked at it suspiciously as Fred took her coat and hung it up.  </p>
<p>“We’re not breaking and entering, right?” End up in jail together would also be hard to explain.</p>
<p>Fred was doing his regular routine of dashing about, making sure everything was perfect. “Of course not.”</p>
<p>“Does anyone live here? Who are the gifts for?”</p>
<p>“Yes and no. Some friends’ own it. They have a larger house around the corner, and they rent this one out occasionally. And yes, the gifts are for you.”</p>
<p>“Really?” she was impressed with both answers. The whole atmosphere of the lonely home on the hill was relaxed and private. She was always happy to find a place where she and Fred didn’t have to pretend or have to be on the lookout for anyone who might walk in on them, and it was always nice to play house with him, though it made her sad that it wasn’t for real. “How did you do all this?”</p>
<p>“I have my ways.” He advanced on her and took her in his arms. </p>
<p>“I see that.” She wound her arms around his waist, “Can I have my way? With you?”</p>
<p>“Hell yeah, gifts can wait.” </p>
<p>After lighting the fireplace in the bedroom, they ended up spending several lovely hours in bed, making love in the bright morning sunshine that streamed into the room. The views of the ocean were lovely, but Fred thought that it didn’t hold a candle to the view of Ginger naked.</p>
<p>Afterwards, when Ginger’s stomach started to rumble audibly, they reluctantly got out of bed and into the shower. It wouldn’t do to smell like sex when they returned home this afternoon from “rehearsal”.<br/>

</p><p>The bathroom was nearly as big as the small bedrooms. It had a huge clawfoot tub that took up the entire end of the room. Ginger ran the hot water tap until it ran warm and filled it up halfway. Fred watched her lean over the tub naked, enjoying the way her muscles moved under her smooth skin and her comfort with her own nudity. He lit the candle in the container by the sink and the wavering light filled the small space. Finally, the water met with her satisfaction and she stepped into the water. </p>
<p>She nodded at the tub, and her sapphire blue eyes twinkled. “I filled it only halfway so that you could join me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, well, alright then,” he pushed off from where he leaned against the sink. She scooted up carefully, making sure the water didn’t slosh around too much. He snuggled in behind her, and they arranged their legs around one another in the steaming water. The porcelain was cold on his shoulders, so he grabbed a towel from the rack, which held a dozen, and laid it out behind him. Comfortable now, he laid back with a sigh of contentment. Ginger laid back against him and he wrapped his arms around her wet form. </p>
<p>“Oh, this is lovely, Fred,” she sighed, wiggling around a bit so that she could see behind her. “Thank you for doing this. This is now officially my favorite kind of rehearsal day.”</p>
<p>He laughed, his eyes crinkling into smile lines at the corners. Leaning in to kiss her, she wrapped her arm around his neck and warm water trickled down his back. They had already had sex twice, and Fred was worn out, but he knew she was multi-orgasmic. That she was twelve years younger than him could definitely be an advantage sometimes. He let his hand slide down her taut belly and between her legs. </p>
<p>“If you slosh water out of the tub, you have to clean it,” he murmured, letting his fingers slide into her heat. She wriggled around in the tub to get some stability and groaned. He wasn’t sure if it was at the prospect of cleaning up a mess or in anticipation. Maybe both. </p>
<p>She wriggled up further, getting an arm around his neck. This put them nearly face to face, with her mostly in his lap. As he slowly moved his hand, her breathing against his cheek quickened. Her blue eyes were half mast, and her head fell back against his arm. The water sloshed mostly between them as he increased the speed and pressure. She laughed and struggled to stay upright in the hot water, holding him tightly, adding to the friction as their slippery skins lurched at unexpected moments. He added his thumb to her clit and stroked her through to her orgasm. She gasped into his neck and tightened around his hand, letting go of the side of the tub and pressed his hand in place against her. After a moment, she let go of him and crawled into his lap, straddling him. The tub was barely big enough.</p>
<p>“Now I have to bathe again,” she gasped, catching her breath, and letting him pull her closer. The water was cooling rapidly, and they’d have to get out soon, but there was time enough for this. “You do it.”</p>
<p>Fred gawked at her for a moment before he started pawing around the edge of the tub, looking for the soap bar that he knew was around somewhere. Ginger helpfully found it for him and presented it like a prize. </p>
<p>He carefully soaped up his hands until he had a good lather going, snickering the whole time. She sat up and put her arms on either side of the tub, allowing him full access. He diligently soaped up her entire body, running his slippery hands over her stomach, back, arms and stomach. He made sure to pay special attention to her breasts. She wasn’t especially ticklish, but her delighted giggles filled the room. Finally, she was all soaped up and he rinsed her off just as carefully. </p>
<p>Getting out of the bathtub was trickier with two, but now that the water had cooled down, it was good motivation to hurry. They were both chilly and dried off quickly, getting back into their warm clothes. Fred didn’t make her clean up the spilled water by herself. She was surprised that there wasn’t more water on the floor, and they used up another four towels cleaning up. Finally, it looked presentable, if well used.</p>
<p>Fred turned on the stove and popped in two large foil wrapped packages from the refrigerator. Rummaging around in one of the cupboards he emerged with a saucepan and proceeded to heat up the au jus from a refrigerated jug. In a few moments, the roast beef sandwiches were warm, and the soup was hot, and lunch was on. They ate quickly, wanting to get to the presents under the tree, but satisfying their hungry stomachs, too.</p>
<p>After lighting the fire, Fred plopped down on the couch and stuck his socked feet on the other armrest. Ginger carefully lowered herself until she was spread out against him. They fell into their usual arrangement of limbs. Wrapping his arms around her again, his deep sigh of contentment rumbled in her ear where her head rested on his chest. Feeling his breath rise and fall, and watching the flames flicker in the fireplace, she drifted off. </p>
<p>“Hey, baby,” Fred whispered after a few minutes, “Don’t fall asleep.”</p>
<p>She startled awake. “Okay, but this is nice.”</p>
<p>“I have a lot nicer things for you.”</p>
<p>She sat up carefully, pushing him into a seated position next to her. “Why didn’t you say so. But first, I want you to open mine.”</p>
<p>She found the packages in her bag and put them under the tree. Fred sat on the floor in front just like a little kid and carefully opened the first package. Pushing aside the tissue paper, he pulled out the card with gold calligraphy that identified the dark grey cardigan underneath as being woven in Ireland. Fred’s sister Adele had married into an Irish aristocratic family, and he had a new appreciation of all things Irish. He pulled it on, smoothing his hands down the soft wool cables. A pair of matching grey socks laid in the box.</p>
<p>“Thank you! They are gorgeous. I love them. You know how much I like wool.” </p>
<p>She did know that. Fred was one of the few people in her life who appreciated quality clothing as much as she did. He was very particular about his clothing.</p>
<p>“There’s another one in there for you. Here.” She handed him the second package. </p>
<p>He ripped off the paper with even more care, as it was obvious that the gift was a book. A hand-made first edition of James Joyce’s book A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man fell out into his hands. Published in 1916, it was one of his favorite Joyce books. The author was just a few years older than himself and was being hailed as a genius writer. Fred hoped to meet him some day. He knew that he’d mentioned it once in passing to her and was awed that she had remembered such a trivial thing that would bring him such joy. “Thank you!”</p>
<p>He couldn’t contain himself any longer and grabbed a gift from under the tree. “Open this one.”</p>
<p>She took the thin, rectangular package, turning it around in her hands and shook it. It rattled a bit, but she had no guesses. Tearing off the paper and ripping open the box, she was confounded to find a black leather riding crop. </p>
<p>“Um, Fred, what am I supposed to do with this?” she asked hesitantly. She didn’t think Fred was into anything so kinky as using a riding crop, but he continually surprised her. She’d be more than happy to slap that ass for him. However, it would probably leave marks and they had already agreed early on that anything that led to marks was to be avoided absolutely. If they were to be discrete, biting, and spanking and doing anything that left marks would have to be extremely gentle or avoided altogether. </p>
<p>Fred could follow her thoughts with ease. Convulsing with laughter, he snorted, “Not what you’re thinking apparently.” </p>
<p>“Oh, shut up.”</p>
<p>She blushed spectacularly but plowed on with the gift opening. The next box contained a big bristly brush. The next box contained a beautiful leather bridle, and she began to see a theme. Suspicion blossomed and she held out all three in front of her. </p>
<p>“I’m seeing a pattern here. What does it mean?” she asked.</p>
<p>Fred bounced to his feet and yanked her after him. He thrust her coat at her and pulled her along after him while she struggled to get into it and her shoes. As soon as she got out of the door however, he put a hand over her eyes and held her tight. Walking her out to the stable, he eased open the door and stopped a few yards inside.</p>
<p>“Surprise!” he took his hands off her eyes and gestured wildly with his arms.</p>
<p>It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the much dimmer interior. When they did, she inhaled sharply. Surely this couldn’t be it, could it?</p>
<p>A beautiful bay Quarter horse stamped in the stall in front of her. Fred leaned against the lower stall door looking in on him in approval, and said, “Ain’t he a beauty?”</p>
<p>“Oh, Fred,” she could barely get the words out, “You… you bought me THIS?” </p>
<p>He was still looking at the horse, who had turned around and begun nosing around Fred, hoping for a treat. He pulled a sugar cube out of his pocket and held it out for the gelding. The soft clomp of his big hooves in the hay covered floor stirred up some dust, but he was interested. Ginger approached them both while the horse was lipping the treat out of his hand. She ran her fingers over the soft nose in amazement. </p>
<p>“For me?” she could hardly believe it and the words came out in a whisper. </p>
<p>“Yeah, neat, huh?” Fred answered, wiping his hand off on his trousers. His hazel eyes shone with joy as he watched her run her hands over the soft black mane and brown head. The gelding watched her, too, his big black eyes following her every move. </p>
<p>“Are you sure about this? This is kind of a big gift,” she said. Fred had bought her expensive jewelry before on several occasions, but this was a first. </p>
<p>“Yeah! I’ve already paid for the first year’s boarding, so if you don’t have to make any decisions about him right away. The owners here are happy to have him around and say you can come up and ride any time you like. But if you want to move him closer to LA, I’d understand.”</p>
<p>The two other horses in the stable nickered at him for their own treats. He handed them each a cube, too. </p>
<p>“I don’t know what to say.”</p>
<p>“Well, do you like him? Do you want him? I can think of something else if you don’t.”</p>
<p>She turned to him. “No, I adore him! I just never thought about it. You know I love to ride.”</p>
<p>And Fred did. He’d taken her on a carriage ride in NYC once and introduced her to a stable in Manhattan. She’d ended up taking lessons there for six months before she had left for Los Angeles. Of course, she’d also just returned from Oregon where she’d been riding several times, too.</p>
<p>“You said you really liked those horses up in Oregon, so I thought it might be a good idea.” Again, he seemed to follow her thoughts with ease. </p>
<p>She couldn’t stop smiling. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? There was no reason why she couldn’t ride out here. There were tons of trails up into the canyons between LA and the Valley, and several stables, too. She loved to be up early in the morning and riding at dawn had always appealed to her.</p>
<p>He walked over to another stall and returned with a gorgeous black English saddle and pad. “Yours, too. I couldn’t figure out how to wrap them.” </p>
<p>She squealed in delight, getting excited now that the initial shock had worn off. “Can I take him out?” </p>
<p>“Of course, he’s yours!”</p>
<p>She stopped suddenly. “Does he have a name?”</p>
<p>Fred swept his arm out in front of him, “Miss Rogers, may I introduce you to four year old Serendipity in Blue, usually called Lucky.  Lucky, you are one lucky bastard; indeed, meet the most wonderful woman alive, Miss Ginger Rogers.”</p>
<p>“His name is Lucky? Seriously?”</p>
<p>“Yep, if you can believe it. I have his papers. It was serendipitous to even find him on this short of notice, but the deal all just fell into place like it was mean to be. So, yeah, Lucky.”</p>
<p>She unlatched the stall and let him out. He stepped out smartly, his ears eagerly forward. He settled, though, quite nicely while she saddled him up.</p>
<p>When she’d gotten him all saddled up and ready to go, she leaned up and kissed him quickly. Lucky leaned in behind her and huffed hot stinky air in their direction. “I think I’m pretty lucky.”</p>
<p>“Not as lucky as me,” Fred answered and stepped forward to give her a leg up. Her answering smile rewarded him as she eagerly found her seat. Everything seemed right, so she swung him around while Fred opened the stable door wider. </p>
<p>He shied a bit with a new rider on his back, but she firmly controlled him and brought him around. </p>
<p>“See you in a bit!” she exclaimed and kicked off Lucky into a trot. After a few minutes, she got him up to a canter and took him around the whole fenced area of several acres.</p>
<p>Fred watched her with deep satisfaction. Not only was the horse a solid mover, but so was Ginger. She had an excellent seat, moving easily with Lucky as he transitioned between gaits, from walk to canter to trot. It was a joy to watch. This was the first horse that he’d ever purchased, but there would be others. He had fallen in love with horses while in New York, too, and had every intention of buying and racing horses someday. He remembered fondly the day in Rio de Janiero that he and Hermes had spent at the famous racetrack there. He also remembered that Ginger had declined and gone to the beach instead, returning with a spectacular sunburn that had led to a glorious night together. Yeah, Ginger and horses just seemed made for one another. He had to think of a way to incorporate that into a movie scene someday. Not on this film, it wouldn’t fit, but maybe on others in the future. Everyone should see her riding. It was yet another example of the marvelous athlete that she was. He leaned on the rail, his hands under his chin, and just watched. This had been a great idea. </p>
<p>Ginger rejoiced in the smooth trot of the bay gelding as they made a loop around the fenced acres behind the little house. Now that she was back here, she could see the larger house on the property next to it and how the driveway continued on to it. Someone on the porch collecting firewood from a large stack stood up and waved to her. Knowing that this was some friend of Fred’s, she waved back and didn’t mind that they lingered to watch. </p>
<p>The squeak of the saddle leathers and the chuffing of the horse under her in the still chilly afternoon December air invigorated her. The hard ground made for easy riding and they moved along briskly, weaving around the gnarly live oaks and dense bunches of chapparal bushes. The rapid pace kept her warm, though their breaths blew out in gusts of steam on each exhale. Winding her way back to the stable, she could see Fred in the distance, still leaning on the fence and watching them. While things weren’t perfect, she couldn’t help thinking about how lucky she was.</p>
<p>As she got closer, she slowed Lucky to a walk to cool him down. That gave her time to see Fred dash back into the house and back out again with the brush. She did a quick dismount and walked him back to the stable. Fred began brushing him down after she unsaddled him. Not knowing exactly where to put the saddle, she left it where Fred had picked it up and joined him. He handed her the brush.<br/>
“Thank you again for him, he’s gorgeous,” she gushed, running the brush over the slightly steaming horse. She hoped that she wouldn’t smell too much like sweaty horse when she got home; there wasn’t time to bathe again. The afternoon sun was already moving rapidly towards the horizon, sparkling like gold on the Pacific. They would have to be getting back to the studio soon, and it was an hour and a half drive back.</p>
<p>“You’re welcome.”</p>
<p>After putting Lucky away with a final pat on the nose, they headed to the house and collected their things. Before they walked out the door though, Fred held it closed as she went to open it.</p>
<p>“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, his hazel eyes sparkling in the golden sunlight.</p>
<p>“Merry Christmas, old man,” she returned, and leaned into his kiss.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Cafe Russe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Filming begins on the much-anticipated film "Roberta".  Fred and Ginger work hard to make their third movie a success while navigating their relationship, which has to remain a secret.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermes sat with his head in his hands and decided that the stage was entirely too loud today. Crew members rushed here and there, banging, and clanging and carrying on, preparing for the first day of the shooting schedule. Why on earth anyone had insisted on starting a movie at 8am on New Year’s Day was beyond him. It was probably Fred. This was probably Fred’s fault. </p><p>Speak of the devil, the man himself walked on to the set as chipper as if it were a normal day. But it wasn’t. It was January 1, 1935 and half the crew were hung over. Including one Hermes Pan, who had gone to a party and returned home in the wee hours of the morning. He saw Fred notice him and turn in his tracks to make a beeline in his direction.</p><p>“Morning, Hermes!” Fred chirped brightly. </p><p>Hermes mumbled “good morning” in return. Fred seated himself on the chair next to him, humming to himself in a most annoying way, looking perfectly dapper in his wardrobe suit. After a minute, he began to drum on the side of his chair noisily and obliviously, and Hermes decided that he needed a lot more coffee to face the day. </p><p>On the way to the Craft Service table, he met Irene Dunn, the actress who was the star of this movie, also on her way to the coffee. She looked as hung over as Hermes felt. She was also in plain slacks and a fluffy wool sweater, and obviously hadn’t been to wardrobe  yet. They had met at the table read a week ago, and, while he wouldn’t have pegged her as a drinker, yesterday HAD been New Year’s Eve, so it could be a holiday thing. </p><p>“Drink more water,” he said, and handed her a water bottle from the two he held. </p><p>Accepting it gratefully, she said in her smoky voice, “Hi Hermes, who in the hell decided we were starting today?”</p><p>He tried not to smile, because smiling hurt, but it was exactly his sentiment. He decided it was acceptable to throw Fred under the bus for being such a goddamn morning person in addition to being able to hold his liquor, if he’d even had any last night. </p><p>“I’m sure it’s Fred’s fault,” he grumbled, but tried to smile charmingly. He pointed over at his friend. </p><p>Hermes sighed. Fred perched in his director’s chair, and waited for Ginger to join him. She settled herself into her own directors-style chair and reached out. Fred took her hand without even looking. Propping their scripts in their laps, they held hands unconsciously and read over their lines one last time.</p><p>Irene gave Hermes a sideways glance, acknowledging his sigh. “So what’s the story with these two?” </p><p>It was Day One and already people were talking. There was no way in hell he was going to tell someone he’d just met anything about his friends’ love life, but he was hung over and felt like shit. His normal politeness and discretion wasn’t kicking in quite yet. </p><p>“Oh, they’re harmless, Irene, just ignore it like the rest of us,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose before pouring himself a cup of coffee. It was a fortunate thing that Fred and Ginger were very well liked by the crew. No one talked about it, at least not much. The handholding and flirting was just something the actors did, and it contributed to a very happy set atmosphere. With a bottle of water in one hand and a coffee in another, he nodded as politely as he could manage and retreated to his own chair. He would have talk to Fred eventually about being Mr. Obvious. However, right before a scene was definitely not the right time and especially not the first shot of the movie.</p><p>Director Bill Seiter joined Irene as she poured her own coffee. A short man with a mustache and a bit of a gut, he slugged down a half cup of coffee and turned to her. </p><p>“Good morning, Irene! Welcome to Roberta.” He kissed her hand in welcome, and rummaged around on the table for a donut. A permanent smile seemed etched on his face. “I can’t wait to get started. This is going to be a wonderful experience.”</p><p>Bill wandered off to consult with the camera crew and the First AD. </p><p>She nodded, hoping it was so. The script was really cute, a light rom-com, with a lot of great, snappy dialog and wonderful wardrobe. It would also be a vehicle for a few dance scenes for Fred and Ginger, and a solo for Fred. She hoped they wouldn’t upstage her, Randy, and Helen. However, she figured they probably would. It didn’t make her jealous or anything. She took the long view on her career. As long as the projects were good and the character was to her liking, she would do her part. Besides, all the buzz in the film industry was about these two dancers. She was very curious as to what they could do. Well, she’d be curious tomorrow, after she’d gotten over this hangover. Right now she thought she’d just hang out on set and watch a bit of rehearsal. She took her coffee and water and found her own labeled chair and settled into it gently.</p><p>Randy Scott arrived, with elderly Helen Westley on his arm. Helen Westley would be playing “Aunt Minnie”, the rich and fabulous owner of Roberta, the premiere dress making shop in Paris. Randy, a strapping 6 foot 3 former football player, would be playing “John”, Aunt Minnie’s American nephew visiting Paris with Fred/Huck’s band. Randy was already friends with Ginger, whom he’d met at a party, but he was just now looking forward to getting to know Fred. Randy’s laughter boomed out and Hermes could tell who else was hung over by how much they winced. The coffee and water was beginning to help, but he could tell it was going to be a long day. </p><p>Finally, Bill called for a first rehearsal and all the cast members took their places. The scene began with Ginger/Tanka having a conversation with Aunt Minnie/Helen, and Randy/John and Fred/Huck enter. Tanka sees Huck enter the room and while she’s happy to see her former beau from a long time ago, she also doesn’t want him to blow her cover. She’s totally faking being Polish aristocracy, complete with an atrocious accent. They ran through it several times, and then prepared to shoot it. </p><p>“Alright, hold the work and quiet on the set!” the First AD yelled. </p><p>Bill pointed to the camera operators and film began to roll out. “Action!”</p><p>Ginger and Helen began their conversation, and Huck and John enter the room. Huck is shocked to see that Tanka is his ex-girlfriend, Lizzie Gatz from his hometown, and as they are introduced, he tries to hide his amusement and she tries to hide her trepidation that he will divulge her identity. Ginger/Tanka handed him her hand to kiss, and he kissed it twice. He continued to hold her hand while they finished their conversation. However, when it was time to leave, he bent to kiss her hand again, but instead, Fred bit her knuckles, hard. </p><p>Ginger inhaled sharply and snatched her hand back from Fred in surprise. She managed to finish the scene and Bill laughingly called out “Cut!” They crew laughed at Ginger’s startled expression, not knowing that the bite hadn’t been scripted. The camera moved to reset and Bill called out “Going again!”</p><p>She turned her back and growled at Fred, “What’s the big idea?”</p><p>Fred just smiled blandly, facing the camera crew and the rest of the stage. She could sense his held-in laughter, however. Just wait until she got him alone. A week ago, they had gone over some ground rules to working together. No biting had definitely been on the list.</p><p>Randy watched the by-play with amusement, out of the corner of his eye. This movie was going to be a lot of fun, he decided. Both Fred and Ginger were easy on the eyes, and both seemed likeable enough.</p><p>They ran through it again, and got through the entire scene. After Tanka and Huck meet, John and Aunt Minnie exit and it’s just Ginger and Fred talking on a couch. Randy quietly moved all the way around the set in order to watch them film from the sidelines. Alone on the set, Ginger and Fred became Huck talking with his old friend Lizzie, and the transformation was lovely to watch. He had heard about these two through the Hollywood gossip grape vine, but hadn’t given it much thought. Now, however, he gave them a second look. Their chemistry was off the charts. They were marvelous together. Randy had hoped this movie would help him break into some bigger roles. He mused that this was definitely going to do that, if anyone remembered that he was in it after Fred and Ginger stole it out from under the rest of the cast. </p><p>The next scene was one that Randy had been looking forward to. He got to enter the room in the middle of an argument between Stephanie/Irene and Tanka/Ginger. He was all prepared to go when Bill yelled “action!”</p><p>When it actually came time to pick up and tuck Irene under his arm and push Ginger down, he hesitated. The director stopped the cameras, “Cut, stop. What’s wrong, Randy?”</p><p>He ran his big hands through his hair and grinned sheepishly. “I don’t want to push her? She’s so tiny, what if I hurt her?”</p><p>Ginger tried to hold in her laughter. It was true that she was a full foot shorter than Randy and about a hundred pounds lighter. </p><p>“If you don’t push me down, Randy, I really WILL lose my temper and then we’ll see who gets hurt!” she scowled at him in mock outrage. </p><p>They set up the scene again and ran through it. This time, Ginger really let loose with the yelling at Stephanie and shoved Irene hard, grabbing her by the sleeves and shaking her vigorously. Randy swooped in and snatched Irene up and gave her a good shove. Ginger’s feet left the floor and she flew backwards into the couch. She didn’t stay there long, though. She leapt up and ran at them again, screeching at the top of her lungs and Randy again knocked her off her feet with a good shove to her chest. The scene ran through to the end, and Bill yelled “Cut”.</p><p>Everyone was laughing over the scene. Randy had to make sure that Ginger was okay and she assured him that she was fine. </p><p>They ran through it another three times, but they all suspected that barring equipment malfunctions, the first take was definitely the best and possibly the third take.</p><p>Ginger was still laughing and rubbing her chest when the scene completed and she retired to her dressing room. Peeling herself out of the dress and handing it to the girl to return to the Wardrobe department, she pulled on a dressing gown, and sat in her comfortable chair. Looking down, she could see the red mark that Randy’s hand had left on her chest. Satisfied that it was fading, she looked down at her knuckles that Fred had bitten. Those indentations were still there hours later, and they throbbed slightly with her heartbeat. </p><p>A knock on her door startled her. </p><p>“May I come in?” </p><p>She waved Fred in and he perched on the arm of her couch. </p><p>“Dammit, my hand hurts!” </p><p>Fred giggled, not even being the least bit repentant. “Ah, baby, let me look.”</p><p>She stood up and crossing over to him, held out her hand for him to inspect the damage. She snatched it back immediately, fearful that he might do it a second time. “Don’t bite me again, will ya?”</p><p>“Okay, okay, that was just for the movie. It doesn’t count.” </p><p>“What do you mean, it doesn’t count? We said no marks.”</p><p>“It doesn’t count if it’s an injury that happens on the job. I’d never actually hurt you.”</p><p>“Well, then.” She wasn’t sure what she thought about that. She’d have to consider the ramifications of that alteration to their little agreement. </p><p>Fred took her and gently kissed her fingers. He proceeded to kiss all the way up her arm to her neck, and wrapped an arm around her waist. Pulling her close, he gave her an almost chaste kiss, just a peck. “Sorry, baby. You’re so sweet, I just want to eat you up.”</p><p>“You’re exasperating, Fred.” She didn’t resist, though, as he peppered her jawline with tiny kisses. </p><p>A minute later, an Assistant Director knocked on her dressing room door to let them know that they were waiting on Fred for the next scene. He reluctantly gazed a moment longer at her in her fuzzy pink bathrobe and returned to the set. </p><p> </p><p>******************<br/>
</p><p>The following day, Adele Astaire enjoyed the look the bamboozled security guard gave her as she checked in at the walk-through Gower entrance to RKO. He ogled her Irish passport and look back and forth between it and her. Picking up the phone, he made a quick call as he asked her to take a seat in the small lobby. </p><p>Moments later, the backdoor opened quickly and a slightly balding man with kind eyes burst through the door. </p><p>“H! I’m here to escort Ms. Cavendish,” he said to the security guard, and caught Adele’s eye.</p><p>She stood up and he shook her hand gently. </p><p>“Hello! I’m Hermes and Fred sent me to escort you to set. He’s stuck at the moment and can’t leave,” he gave her his arm and together they walked through the security area into the studio proper.<br/>
Walking down the lane, she could see and hear the industrious studio at work. They passed a couple of stages with their big doors open and peering inside, she could see carpenter and painters working hard at building sets, electricians rigging lights and grips moving things around as needed. On the street, production assistants on bicycles rushed past them on errands. Men in business suits emerged from and entered into production offices. All around them, the rush of business as usual at a production studio transpired. It was both similar to and very different from the Broadway business that she was used to.</p><p>Adele and Fred had been partners in their Vaudeville act and Broadway plays for twenty seven year, since they were small children. A couple of years ago, she had retired to marry Lord Charles Cavendish, the second son of the 9th Duke of Cavendish in Ireland. She currently lived in an actual Irish castle, Lismore Castle. Sometimes she missed the hustle and bustle of show business, but usually she was content with a more quiet life. Today, however, she was very excited to get to see her little brother work. She was in town for a couple weeks to visit, and had slept the best part of the first day, getting over jet lag. Today she felt fabulous and all worked up. Nervousness sizzled in her belly. She couldn’t wait to see what Freddie was up to these days. Especially since this movie was being made with Ginger, his former girlfriend from New York. Fred hadn’t said much about it, except that it was fine working with her. She was looking forward to seeing the girl, too. They were very similar in personality, in fact, and got along very well. </p><p>She could tell that Hermes was a bit dazzled by her. After all, she had a great reputation on Broadway, which kept sending her offers of work to tempt her back into show biz. He kept giving her sideling glances as they walked down the street.</p><p>“So, Hermes, what do you do here?” she asked, drawing him into conversation.</p><p>“I’m the Assistant Dance Director, and I get to work with Fred,” he began, “Which means that I show up a few weeks before production starts and do conditioning and strength training with Ginger, and the three of us start planning the dances. Well, Fred plans the dances and we give suggestions and try things out. It works out very well.” </p><p>“Fred told me that he loves working with you,” she interjected. Hermes ducked his head shyly.</p><p>“So what’s Ginger like as a dancer? Back when I knew her several years ago, she showed great potential.”</p><p>“Ginger’s swell! It’s amazing how fast she picks things up. Wait until you see her. She and Fred work really swell together as a dance team.”</p><p>They reached the stage and the security guard let them in. </p><p>Pausing a moment just inside the door to let their vision adjust to the darker interior, she took a deep breath. Yep, smelled like a sound stage. The sets smelled like new wood and paint, and the lights smelled hot. It was a very particular smell, and one she would never forget. </p><p>All around them, people moved purposefully to get on with their tasks. </p><p>“The shooting call isn’t for another half hour, but they’re planning on doing a rehearsal very soon. Fred’s just finishing up in Makeup. ” He gestured towards a door on the far side of the stage. Leading her inside, he took her up to a huddle of men surrounding one of the two big cameras, a monitor, and a sound station. Several chairs and a small table with electrical equipment rounded out the cluttered area. </p><p>“Excuse me, Bill?” Hermes interrupted them, “I’d like to introduce you to Lady Cavendish, Fred’s sister.”</p><p>The director turned to meet her. The rest of the men around him looked on with interest. “Hello! It’s a pleasure to meet you!” </p><p>Adele extended her hand and Bill looked like he wasn’t sure if he should shake it or kiss it. </p><p>“Call me Adele,” she said and he decided to shake her hand, due to the informality.</p><p>“Well, Adele, welcome to “Roberta”! I think Fred’s still in Makeup but he should be here soon. Please have a seat over in this area. I hope you enjoy your visit!” he gestured toward a collection of directors- style chairs. She could see names on the back of them “Fred Astaire” and “Ginger Rogers” and “Hermes Pan” amongst a few other. </p><p>She thanked him and she and Hermes made their way over to the chairs. Getting her settled, Hermes heard his name called and politely excused himself. She settled in, and watched the bustle around her with interest. She was seated slightly behind the cameras, and off to the side of the set, but she could see the entire thing. </p><p>The set was huge, with four main parts. There was an upper section that looked like a bar set, with two wings jutting out to either side. One was set with chairs and two pianos nose to nose and was obviously for the band. The other wing held another bar-type set and was smaller. Between the wings and below the bar set, a set of stairs let down to a large open space, obviously a dance floor. Chairs and tables lined the edges, though at the moment they were pushed to the side to make way for the cameras to film the band area. </p><p>Adele was distracted by the entrance of a girl in a shiny, satiny silver dress, complete with a cape that snugged around her shoulders and boasted floor length, almost tinsel-like steamers. She wasn’t the only one distracted. The pause in the work around the set was like a sigh that went through the stage. In amusement, she looked quickly around and nearly every male on the stage was either rubbernecking at her or turning away from having looked. A second later, the sound returned to normal volume and the work continued. Adele couldn’t help but smile at the male response. </p><p>She wondered who the girl was. She was a tiny little thing, but with a figure that could stop traffic – or work on a soundstage, apparently. The slinky silver dress looked painted on, and hugged every curve, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. She leaned against the piano, charisma practically oozing from her, and the suited gentleman behind her sat down at the piano bench. Adele admired the three inch heels that she stood in. Gradually, other band members arrived and took their places at their seats with their instruments. They all greeted the woman in silver and the piano player, and their playful but quiet banter drifted over to where she sat.</p><p>From the corner of her eye, she saw Fred enter the stage, his slim figure looking grand in a beautifully tailored tuxedo. However, he did not see her. He had eyes only for the girl on stage. He leaped the steps to the band stage quickly and took the girl’s hand. Holding her at arms’ length, she could see him say, “Wow!” and that’s when she realized that the woman in silver was Ginger. She did a little dance, turning all the way around, showing off for him. His eyes traveled up and down, a huge grin spreading over his face. Behind her, the boys in the band did likewise, though they were very much more circumspect about their admiration, hiding their glances behind their instruments or sheet music. When she turned towards Adele, she realized that the dress neckline was all the way down to Ginger’s waist and that there was very little fabric on top. It was fabulous and utterly outrageous at the same time. </p><p>Fred didn’t seem able to take his eyes off of his dance partner in this scandalous outfit and it was Ginger who saw her from the stage. She squealed, gathering up all the tinsel streamers over her arm and navigated the stairs towards her quickly. </p><p>Adele stood up and held out her arms and Ginger nearly crashed into her in her haste. Feeling a little bit like she’d just been tackled by a Christmas tree or maybe just an entire package of tinsel, Adele hugged her tightly and released her. Ginger stepped back and the full impact hit Adele. She’d always admired Ginger’s bright blue eyes, but in makeup, she was simply stunning up close. Her curly strawberry blond hair was done up in a fancy style with sparkly jewels, her nails were perfectly manicured, and the dress was simply audacious.</p><p>“Delly! It’s so good to see you!” Ginger gushed, holding her by the elbows and smiling so hard that her dimples showed. </p><p>“Likewise, sweetheart!” Adele had always liked Ginger, and her contagious enthusiasm. She found herself grinning in response, and then Fred was there, prying her from the girls’ arms and embracing her himself. </p><p>“Oh, Freddie, you look so handsome!” she laughed, brushing her hands over his shoulders and down his suited arms. She’d just seen him earlier that morning, but he was transformed now, into a dapper professional, not the grumpy man in pajamas that she had caught slugging down orange juice from the carton before dawn.</p><p>He swung his arm in a graceful gesture. “Thank you, my dear sister.” </p><p>Behind them, Bill and his AD began to call the set to order for a last run-through. Adele found Fred’s chair and seated herself again. Without even looking down, Fred took Ginger’s hand and the two actor-dancers walked back to the set. Fred took his place at the piano and Ginger disappeared behind the set wall, waiting for her cue. </p><p>Finally, all was quiet and the First AD yelled, “Quiet on the set! Roll film.”</p><p>Bill shouted, “Action” and the music began.</p><p>Adele knew that Fred was an excellent piano player. If dance hadn’t worked out so well for him, he could have easily pursued a career as a professional pianist or composer. He already had several published songs to his name. But his piano chops now were phenomenal. She couldn’t believe her eyes. He banged on the instrument in a duet with the other pianist, a catchy, bouncing tune that was instantly memorable. She could barely see his hands from this angle, but she could see the admiring glances of the musicians behind him enjoying their maestro’s brilliance. </p><p>Then Ginger made her entrance and she sat up straighter in her chair. The girl strutted onto the stage, working that form-fitting dress, sashaying to the left and the to the right. Fred finished his hot piano licks and came to pick up his maestro’s baton on the piano and direct the band, but his character, Huck, is distracted by Ginger’s character Lizzy/Tanka. She couldn’t blame her brother, or Huck. Glancing around her, every man on stage (and the crew was nearly all male), was mesmerized, too, by Tanka/Ginger’s entrance. She smothered her grin. Tanka danced across in front of the pianos, her small breasts bouncing with every move in the slim sheath of silk covering them. </p><p>Huck stopped her with his hands on her shoulders, but Fred couldn’t help looking down at her chest. </p><p>“Can I help you?” Huck asked.</p><p>Tanka gestured at him, at herself and at the dance floor and did a jiggly little bounce again. Adele had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. It was so outrageous. There was no way the conservative Hay’s Code would allow this onscreen; it was far too suggestive. </p><p>The scene continued, with Huck saying no and Tanka begging him to dance. Fred burst into song “I Won’t Dance”, and Ginger replied and the scene moved into the bar area. Bill yelled “cut” and the set broke out into cheers. On set, Ginger took a bow and luxuriated in the adoration.</p><p>Now the real work began. Going again, they went through the scene another three times before Bill thought that he had enough. Adele would bet real money, though, that they used the first take.<br/>
</p><p>They took a short break to move the cameras to shoot into the bar set, but neither Fred nor Ginger stopped to check on her. Hermes, though, reappeared from wherever he had been and took Fred’s seat. She welcomed him back and soon the camera’s, sound equipment and the tables and chairs lining the dance floor were ready and they began filming. The soundstage door opened and a dozen executives in suits filed in and found unobtrusive places to watch. Obviously word had gotten out about Fred’s dance solo.</p><p>The scene began with Huck and Tanka having a last conversation in song, before Fred was picked up by two huge Cossacks and dropped onto his feet on the dance floor. The set lighting changed dramatically, highlighting the band and Fred, then narrowing onto Fred as he began his solo. In a near silent rush of shimmering silver, Ginger appeared next to her and slipped carefully into her chair to watch.</p><p>It was worth watching. Fred started off slow, his feet tapping to the beat. He cavorted around the dance floor, hitting the down beats and then the syncopated off-beats, changing up the rhythms with his moves and the band followed his lead musically with perfect timing. Swirling and twirling and clapping across the stage, every eye in the room was focused on him in amazement. The dance crescendoed into an explosion of wild tapping and he finished up with his hands raised in triumph. </p><p>Bill yelled cut and the set again erupted into cheers. Next to her, Ginger clapped enthusiastically and wolf whistled. Fred threw a bow in her direction. She laughed delightedly and blew him a kiss. Hermes was on his feet, wildly applauding his friend. Adele could see Fred absorbing the adoration like a sponge and in turn it made him glow with joy. His smile beamed across the stage. He skipped back up to his starting mark, and waited for the director to announce take two.</p><p>“Are you going to stay here or leave?” Adele whispered to Ginger, who showed no signs of getting out of her chair to get to wardrobe. </p><p>“Oh, I’m staying! I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Ginger’s eyes watched Fred as he shook hands with the band members and Hal the pianist. “Besides, this is my own personal dress, and it doesn’t go back to the Wardrobe Department.”</p><p>Adele raised an eyebrow that Ginger didn’t see. She owned this scandalous silver dress personally? Of course she did. The girl had always had a penchant for the outrageous and dramatic, even as a nineteen year old on Broadway, and having a bit of money and famous designers at her beck and call had resulted in this dress, at least. Adele considered that Ginger was much better suited to her brother than the woman he had married. She and their mother, Ann, had been dead set against Fred marrying Phyllis, but Fred had insisted. Reluctantly, they had tolerated her. Ann liked Ginger better, too. </p><p>While they all waited for Take Two to begin, Hermes and Ginger chatted while Adele dug through her purse for her lipstick. Glancing up, she watched Fred glance over in their direction from his place at the bar with the two Cossack actors, who towered over him. She expected to catch his eye, but he was watching Ginger intently, oblivious to anything else in the room, even his sister visiting from abroad.<br/>
</p><p>The revelation broadsided her. She had observed Fred court and marry Phyllis for two years in New York, and had spent time with them the last two days as she recovered from jet lag. She had never seen him look at Phyllis in quite the way he was looking at Ginger. It occurred to her, like a club over the head, that Fred was still in love with Ginger. She had suspected that it was the case, but she’d never gotten any confirmation from Fred, who didn’t like to talk about that kind of thing, even with his sister. The unconscious hand-holding from before took on a new light. </p><p>Glancing over at Ginger, she watched her as she applied her lipstick. If Fred was still enamored with Ginger, did she reciprocate those feelings? </p><p>The director called for another take and she watched Ginger instead of Fred. Her eyes followed his every move. She was just as oblivious to anything else in the room as Fred had been. With a sinking feeling, Adele realized that the adoration was mutual. She also realized that she’d heard that Ginger had very recently been married, too. She would never bring up the subject with Ginger, but she intended to pick Fred apart as soon as she had him alone. </p><p>When lunch time came a two hours later, and they were still hammering out the dance sequence because of a camera malfunction and a film tear, Fred returned to the small group.</p><p>Wiping the sweat off his face with a towel, he said, “Well, what do you think?”</p><p>Adele jumped from her seat and hugged him, regardless of his sweat damp suit. “I think you were marvelous, Freddie, just wonderful!”</p><p>Fred blushed even through the flush on his face from his dance exertions. “Thanks. Adele, are you ready to go home now?”</p><p>Now that he said it, she was getting a little tired. Maybe a nap would be a good thing. Apparently the jet lag wasn’t entirely out of her system yet. She nodded. Gathering her things, she gave Ginger a quick hug and followed Hermes towards the door.</p><p>“I’m picking up lunch for Fred and myself. Ginge, do you want anything?” he asked. “I can pick up lunch after I drop Adele off at Fred’s.”</p><p>“No, thanks, sweetie, I’m leaving in a bit. Got to get out of this dress first and it might take a shoe horn.” She laughed and Adele did not miss the way Fred’s eyes were riveted onto her form.  She descended carefully from her chair. Fred helpfully assisted her in picking up all the silver tinsel streamers and hanging them over her arm. “Thanks, Freddie.”</p><p>“You’re welcome. I’m gonna walk Adele out and I’ll be back in a few.” He watched as she strode off towards the door that led to the dressing rooms.</p><p>Fred shook his head in amazement, and stuck out his arm for his sister. Outside in the cold, damp January southern California weather, she pulled her coat tightly around herself. She linked hers with his and he escorted her off the soundstage and down the studio lot street.</p><p>“I’ll be home in a couple of hours,” he said, pausing just outside the Gower Gate walk-through. He opened the door for Hermes and her. As she passed him, she gave him a quick buss on the cheek and thought that she couldn’t wait for him to get home tonight because she had a million questions. </p><p> </p><p>**************************</p><p> </p><p>With Adele and Hermes gone, Fred hurried back to the soundstage. Moving quickly down the hallway to his dressing room, he was distracted by a cacophony of noise from Ginger’s dressing room next door. He knocked politely and then banged more firmly when there was no response. </p><p>The door flew open. Ginger was on a step stool, and two girls from the Wardrobe Department were arguing loudly and gesturing wildly at one another. Ginger was yelling right back at them, and as best Fred could make out, the zipper on the dress was stuck and all three had a different idea on how to peel Ginger out of the form-fitting gown. </p><p>“Don’t tear it! Don’t tear it!” Ginger shrieked, as the two women pawed at the dress and reluctant zipper and she batted their hands away.  “Fred, help me!” </p><p>This was absurd. “QUIET!”</p><p>Fred shouted and immediately the two wardrobe assistants clammed up, glaring alternately at Ginger, each other, and at Fred. With an imperious gesture, he pointed out the door and the two women stalked off, glowering balefully at him. As soon as they were gone, he locked the door and turned back to Ginger. </p><p>She balanced on the step stool in her bare feet, both hands angrily on her hips. Her sapphire blue eyes flashed dangerously and her chest heaved with angry breaths. </p><p>“What on earth was that about?” Fred asked. </p><p>“The zipper is stuck and I asked the girls to help. And they were no help at all. I’m stuck in here, Fred, and I can’t get out!” she pouted and gestured angrily at the side zipper. “Come help me.”<br/>
Fred didn’t need to be asked twice. He had lots of experience getting Ginger out of her clothing and the thought made him snicker quietly to himself. He didn’t let Ginger see him, though. She was already agitated enough without thinking that he was laughing at her. </p><p>“How lucky am I to get to unwrap you like a late Christmas present?” He studiously examined the malfunctioning zipper as she held her arm overhead. He held her hips in his hands, turning her this way and that, pretending to assess the situation. Now that he was locked in a room with her, alone, with this revealing dress, he had much more mischievous intentions. “By the way, how was the rest of your Christmas and New Years?”</p><p>“It was fine. Nothing to write home about. I liked our Christmas much better.” The annoyance started to fade a bit and the memory of their Christmas day together made her happy. The memories gave Fred a warm glow, too, but he didn’t want to linger on that. He had to help his dance partner out right now. With her right in front of him, he needed all his wits about him.</p><p>He put his strong fingers on the zipper and concluded that yes, it was indeed stuck. A line of fabric was caught in the zipper and it would take great care to get it out without tearing it. She tried to point out where it was caught, but he could see it for himself.</p><p>“Keep your arm up, so I can see what I’m doing.” He pushed her arm up and let his fingers ghost over her breast on the way down to the zipper. Her breathe caught at the unexpected contact. Fred ducked his head so she couldn’t see his smirk. </p><p>Incrementally, half inch by half inch, the zipper reluctantly let go of the fabric. Fred did go slow because Ginger would be honestly furious if anything happened to the dress. She had designed it herself with the famous dress maker Bernard Newman, who was coincidentally the Costume Designer on this film. It was her pride and joy at the moment. </p><p>She turned a bit in order to see what he was doing, and he put his hands on her stomach and back to turn her away. She huffed in annoyance. “Hang on, baby, I’ll have you out of this soon.”<br/>
He rubbed small circles on her back, and let his hand slide down her butt on his way back to the zipper. Above him, he heard her gasp lightly at his touch again. He loved that he had this effect on her. The zipper tugged down a few more inches. </p><p>“Fred, what is taking so long?” she whined. She tried to see what he was doing.<br/>
</p><p>Fred knew exactly how much time he had on the lunch break before he had to be back at work. He wanted to give himself a few minutes to shovel in whatever lunch Hermes was bringing back, but he wanted this dress off with zero time left to linger. He set about making her as frustrated as possible. </p><p>“Keep your arm up, please!” he barked and she shoved her arm in the air again, with an aggrieved sigh. He leaned in and kissed the line of skin that the zipper had so far revealed. Her inhale made him a little weak in the knees, but he kept going. For every half inch of zipper down, he kissed her soft, alabaster skin. </p><p>“Jesus, Fred!” she choked out. Her blue eyes were wide in surprised delight as she stared down at him. Fred held her still with his strong hands. </p><p>“Hold still!” he insisted. He tugged the zipper again, and the fabric let go. The rest of the zipper slid down and the silver dress slithered off Ginger like a sheath of silk. It all ended up in his hands as he struggled to hold the slippery fabric. Ginger wiggled some more and the cape came off, too, the silvery streamers covering his face. He wrapped them up in his hands and glanced up at his dance partner.</p><p>Underneath the dress, Ginger was completely naked. </p><p>She took a deep breath, glad to be free of the tight sheath dress. A few inches from her naked body, Fred looked up the few inches into her face and she let a slow smile creep over her face. She knew the effect that she had on him, too.</p><p>“You were like this the entire dance?” he stammered. When she nodded, he lowered his head to her collarbone and leaned in with soft lips. He continued his gentle kisses all the way down her taut belly and then stopped, his hands on her hips, long fingers spread across her skin.</p><p>Looking up into her lustful, expectant face staring down at him, he said, “Tomorrow we start ‘Hard to Handle’. See ya then, baby.” </p><p>Fred scampered for the door as fast as his feet could carry him, and barely got it closed before the shoe she threw clunked against it with a hard bang.</p><p>Her outraged shriek followed him. </p><p>“I’ll show YOU who’s hard to handle, Fred Astaire!”</p><p> </p><p>**************************</p><p> </p><p>Later that evening, after a dinner of Philly Cheesesteak sandwiches and French fries from a local deli (Phyllis did not particularly like to cook), Adele asked Fred if he’d like to take a walk. Even though it was dark and cold, Adele squashed the concerns Phyllis brought up – they were New Yorkers at heart; the Southern California winter weather was nothing compared to that. Reluctantly, Phyllis agreed. After all, she was from Boston and no stranger to real weather. </p><p>The siblings bundled up and headed out.</p><p>They walked in silence for a long time. Beverly Hills was a quiet place, the large boulevards empty of traffic and nearly everyone inside their large, stylish homes at this time of night. Arm in arm, like they had hundreds of times, they matched steps and let their feet lead the way. Fred was quiet, as if he knew his sister had something on her mind. Finally, she broached the subject.<br/>
“Fred, what are you doing?” she asked. “You’re both married.”</p><p>Fred was silent for a long while, apparently gathering his thoughts, until a heavy sigh shook his frame. “Well, Adele, it’s like this. When Ginger left New York, you know that I never expected to see her again. I expected to stay working on Broadway, or at least London’s West End. I didn’t tell you, but I lost a lot of money in the Crash of 1929. I didn’t exactly marry Phyllis for her money, her folks are loaded, but it was one thought on my mind. Besides Ginger, no one else had every shown much interest in me, despite my successes on Broadway. People get this weird idea that I had the girls lined up, but it just isn’t so. So, with Ginger gone and my heart broken, I guess I latched on to Phyllis. I know you and Mother tried to warn me off, but that just made me more stubborn. And then when the work on Broadway dried up and we were considering moving out here, Phyllis demanded that I marry her before the move.”</p><p>He paused, and they walked another block. His explanation sounded like he’d told himself the story hundreds of times.</p><p>“And then, within two months of moving out here, I needed a dance partner for “Flying Down to Rio.” They suggested several other dancers to me, but I wanted Ginger. They didn’t even know that she could dance – she’d done twenty small films for them, but as an actress. The studio humored me and put her in ‘Rio’, and you know how that took off. Well, something else took off, too, and uh well, we got together on that movie.” Fred scrubbed at his face, clearly uncomfortable telling his sister of his indiscretion. </p><p>“Oh, Fred,” Adele chided gently. Suddenly she could see in him the little boy who always thought he wasn’t good enough, who just wanted approval. Ginger definitely approved of him.</p><p>“Well, it was just like old times. She’s so easy to be with, Delly, just to talk to, never mind anything else.” Thinking of how much fun they had had just this afternoon, both the acting together and the teasing in her dressing room, he continued. “She knows exactly who I am, all my many faults, and she loves me anyway.” </p><p>Fred paused for another long moment, and Adele wondered if he was done. “You know she just got married.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Well, it’s not going well.”</p><p>“I’d imagine not, with her cheating with you.”</p><p>Fred winced defensively, and shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah. The problem is, neither of us can get divorced right now. It just wouldn’t look right, and ‘looking right’ is what counts in Hollywood. What would people say if we divorced our spouses and got together officially?”</p><p>“The truth? That you dated before you each married, you married the wrong people and fell back in love?”</p><p>“It’s not as easy as that, Delly.”</p><p>“Isn’t it?”</p><p>“No, I don’t think so. Phyllis has Peter, of course, and a second failed marriage would be disastrous for her.”</p><p>“So you’re just going to string Ginger along?” Adele found that unpalatable. She liked Ginger and wanted better for the girl than to be someone’s mistress, even if the one keeping her on the side was her own brother. </p><p>Fred laughed, quietly but sincerely. “Ginger has her own ideas. She’s okay with this the way things are right now. Maybe in a few years, after we’ve stopped working together, we can both get quiet divorces and then marry.” </p><p>“You’re talking years. Years, Fred?”</p><p>“It’s not ideal, no.” He sighed, a wistful, unhappy sound. “But then I’ll be in a better place financially to take care of Phyllis and Peter. I can’t just abandon them. I like Phyllis and I thought that I loved her. She doesn’t have many options and this whole mess isn’t her fault at all, it’s mine. And in the meantime, Ginger and I have at least four more movies together over the next couple of years. Who knows what might happen in those years? I want to keep my options open, and so does she.”</p><p>Adele recollected on how Ginger just seemed to crash through life, from one adventure to another, with little knack for planning for the future. This whole scenario that Fred laid out WAS probably fine with her. It was yet one more bit of evidence that they were very compatible. Something occurred to her. </p><p>“What if she gets pregnant?”</p><p>Fred winced again and turned away. “Not going to happen. Something about an infection and things all messed up inside her. It’s not something we have to worry about.” </p><p>Immediately, she felt sorrow for Ginger, who after all, was only twenty three. It was very young to be faced with the fact that she could never have children. However, that was one concern off the table, however callous that seemed. A love child was something the public would never accept and would immediately end both of their careers. While Hollywood ran on its own rules, the movie-going public was much more conservative. They liked seeing Fred and Ginger pretend to be in love on the screen, but maybe not so much in real life, especially as they were married to other people. </p><p>They continued walking, but took a route that would bring them back home eventually. </p><p>“Well, you’re in a right pickle.” She squeezed his arm. She loved her little brother so much, and she just wanted him to be happy.</p><p>“Yeah,” he answered worriedly, “but I don’t know if you should bring this all up to Ginger. We’re only just figuring this out as we go.”</p><p>They walked another block in silence. </p><p>“Does Phyllis know?” she asked. </p><p>“Yes and no. She suspects that we got together on ‘Rio’ but I’ve never confessed. And when Ginger went missing, you remember when I told you she ran away and ended up in Oregon? I am pretty sure she realized that I still carried a torch for her since I completely freaked out. And now … Phyllis and I, we just don’t talk about it. What happens at work stays at work, and what happens at home stays at home.”</p><p>“That sounds difficult.”</p><p>“Not so much. It’s not perfect, but you know how work is… hours of hard work dancing, you come home exhausted, fall into bed, get up at the butt crack of dawn to do it all over again for weeks and months on end… it’s not difficult to avoid someone if you want to. Phyllis is angry, but she has Peter and my checking account to keep her spirits up.”</p><p>“Ouch. Damn, Freddie.” </p><p>“So why didn’t Charles come with you?” He deflected the uncomfortable conversation away from himself.</p><p>Now it was Adele’s turn unexpectedly on the hot seat. “He doesn’t like to travel much. He’s kind of a homebody.” </p><p>Truth was, her husband was much more set in his ways than Adele had expected. He did not like to deviate from any schedule for any reason. Adele, always the busy socialite, ended up at a lot of events and get-togethers alone. She was throwing herself into various community effort and charity organizations in order to meet her need for people. They were trying to have children, too, but so far nothing had taken. Charles also drank too much for her comfort. She would tell her brother about these things another time. Right now, his situation was more pressing than hers.</p><p>“Hmm.” Fred said. While he knew Adele worried about him, he definitely worried about her. It seemed an odd marriage – his outgoing, personable sister married to a stuffy recluse. Well, he knew that she would tell him when she was ready.</p><p>“Things aren’t perfect, Freddie.” </p><p>“Well, I know the feeling.” </p><p>They continued on home in companionable silence, a comfort to one another.</p><p> </p><p>*****************************</p><p> </p><p>It was early in the morning and Adele nursed a cup of tea, sipping a little bit at a time, working on waking up. Fred had told her that he would send a car for her later if she wanted to come for the filming only, but she was enjoying herself tremendously and wanted to see the final rehearsal, too. She was becoming quite comfortable in Fred’s chair. </p><p>On the Café Russe set, Fred and Ginger began stretching and limbering up their muscles. First, though, Ginger wanted to go through her song one last time, and then go through the steps to the “I’ll Be Hard To Handle” dance, just like they would when the filmed it this afternoon.</p><p>Hal dutifully began the accompaniment. </p><p>“You know, this silly accent is going to shred my vocal cords,” Ginger complained one last time to no one in particular. They’d all heard the complaint a few dozen times, but it was a part of the script and story that couldn’t be changed. That Ginger sounded ridiculous didn’t register with the director. He just told her that she was supposed to sound that way. She frowned, and Hal started the music over again patiently. </p><p>She dutifully ran through the song, grimacing and frowning the entire time, which made Fred laugh. </p><p>“I hope you will do better with that when we film it, or else we’ll be out of a job,” he exclaimed. </p><p>“Don’t worry… you’ll never know that I hate this. That’s why they call it ACTING, honey,” she shot back. “Adele, how was it?”</p><p>Adele answered honestly, “Well, the accent is horrible but your voice has improved tremendously!”</p><p>Ginger liked to think that her voice had always been good but unfortunately that was not true. What she needed was a good vocal coach. However, from what Fred had said, she was opposed to that and thought she sounded fine. Fortunately, she sounded pretty good now, so maybe she was right. It wasn’t Adele’s place to tell her that she could benefit from lessons. </p><p>Ginger gave her a thumbs up and stepped down from the band area to the dance floor. Fred lounged on the steps below. </p><p>“Hey, should we run through the dialog or just the dance?” she asked. </p><p>“I know the dialog, how about just the dance?”</p><p>“Alright then!”</p><p>They faced each other on the middle of the set. With a gentle twirl, they ended up on the far end of the set, closest to the bar and stairs. With a tap and a fast triple twirl they ended up stepping out with perfect timing. Their laughter and giggling accompanied them as they swung through the entire dance. Talking through the entire dance, they whirled and tapped, looking like they were having the time of their lives. </p><p>Hermes watched Adele out of the corner of his eye. She looked surprised and leaned forward in her chair as if mesmerized.</p><p>“Hermes, she’s good!” </p><p>Hermes was inordinately proud of how he had helped make Ginger a great dancer. “Yeah, I know.”</p><p>“No, I mean, I know she’s good but she’s really, really good. She and Fred just seem to follow each other’s thoughts.” She could dance that way with her brother, but they had danced together for twenty seven years. She hadn’t thought anyone else could replicate that easy partnering. Ginger apparently could. And the difference of Fred dancing with his sister as opposed to dancing with his lover was very apparent. She’d never seen her brother like this before. </p><p>“Yeah, that’s why they have a seven-movie deal. The studio saw it and ka-ching, they are going to be huge stars.” Hermes sounded smug. </p><p>They moved smoothly and effortlessly across the dance floor, whooping, and laughing the entire time. Adele watched the so intently that Hermes was sure she hadn’t even blinked.</p><p>“How long has she been tapping?” Adele asked.</p><p>Hermes had to think for a moment. “Well, ‘Rio’ was all dance, and ‘Gay Divorcee’ had a little tap in the Continental dance… so maybe six weeks between those two movies and now with this one….” He did some calculations in his head. “About another six weeks before this movie?”</p><p>Adele stared at him in shock. So, three months of intensive training and the girl danced like she’d been doing it for forever. It generally took YEARS for someone to dance like this.</p><p>“That’s phenomenal. I had no idea she could dance like this.”</p><p>“Well, neither did anyone else,” Hermes began reasonably, “She’s an actress who can dance, not a dancer who can act, like Fred.”</p><p>Adele looked at him in astonishment. “Do you know what a gem you have here?”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure Fred saw her potential on “Girl Crazy” and wanted to teach her then. Her aptitude as a dancer is the second reason Fred is so taken with her.”</p><p>Adele’s delighted laughter echoed through the soundstage.</p><p> </p><p>***************************************</p><p> </p><p>Lela Rogers couldn’t wait to see her daughter sing and dance this afternoon. She had brought one of her protegee’s, Lucille, with her today to the set of her daughter's movie. She loved being able to say that. It had been a long time coming, and all their hard work was beginning to pay off. One of those successes was getting her own deal. Lela ran an acting school on the RKO lot, called the Little Theater, in the evenings frequently was able to sneak in and see her daughter rehearse or shoot scenes. Today’s dance promised to be a lot of fun. Lucille was the same age as Ginger and wanted to be an actress desperately. Lela had already gotten her a job as one of the background models in the Fashion Show scene. She felt sure that Lucille had a good future in films, and she hoped also that she and her daughter would hit it off and start a friendship. Her daughter needed some girlfriends her own age. Lela knew that the film industry was dominated by men. On the set, frequently the only women were the Script Clerk, like the reliable Trudy Wellman, or Ginger's regular Stand-In, Marie Osborne, or another actress. Her daughter never complained but it could get lonely being the only woman surrounded by men. </p><p>Lucille looked on the set in wonder. She had done a lot of bit part acting work, but she’d never been a part of such a big movie before. She was amazed that Ginger, who was exactly the same age as her, had such an amazing job. However, Ginger also had Lela, who was a force of nature herself and who had worked her daughter hard to become a good actress. She had heard all about the sixteen hour days of hard work that Ginger put in to make it as a successful actress. All the girls admired her, and wanted to emulate her. The lucky ones were able to do so. </p><p>They walked through the stage until they came to the door that led to the hall with the dressing rooms. Lucille had to make sure she was breathing as Fred Astaire came out of Ginger’s dressing room.<br/>
“Hiya, Lela!” he said, and kissed her on the cheek. They had made up after the disastrous occasion of Ginger’s running away. She still wasn’t thrilled that this married man was hanging around her married daughter, but she’d always liked Fred. “And who is this?” </p><p>His inquisitive hazel eyes bored into Lucille’s. She couldn’t get a word out and just smiled. She hoped she didn’t look like too much of an idiot.</p><p>“Fred, this is Lucille Ball. She’s one of my actor kids in the Little Theater. She’ll be background in the Fashion Show scene.”</p><p>Fred took Lucille’s hand and kissed it in gentlemanly fashion. Lucille thought she might faint. Finally, Fred continued on his merry way down the hallway and out of sight. She was surprised at how trim and short he was, barely an inch taller than she was and she probably outweighed him, too.</p><p>Lela smiled as she saw the awe in Lucille’s eyes. She wasn’t that good of an actress yet, but Lela was sure that she would be some day. She reached Ginger’s door and knocked loudly.<br/>
“Come in!” Ginger’s voice shouted. </p><p>Pushing the door open, Lela marched into Ginger’s dressing room. The young actress was at her makeup table, touching up her makeup. Lucille thought she’d never met anyone more glamourous. She had heard all about Ginger from Lela, though she’d never yet been at the Little Theater when Ginger had come by. Seeing what a success Lela had made of Ginger gave all the struggling starlets hope. If Ginger could make it under her mother’s hard tutelage, maybe they could, too, if they had talent and worked hard.</p><p>“Hey Ginger, I want you to meet someone.” </p><p>Ginger immediately put down her mascara and turned with a smile to Lucille. She stuck out her hand and Lucille shook it nervously. Up close, she realized that Ginger was probably right around her own age of twenty three and tiny. Lucille was five foot seven inches, and she towered over the younger woman, who looked to be around five three, maybe five four. </p><p>“Gin meet Lucille Ball. She’s one of my kids at the Theater, but I don’t think you’ve met yet, have you?”</p><p>“No, I haven’t had the pleasure yet.” Ginger’s voice was lower than Lucille expected and had a sexy, smoky quality that she immediately was jealous of.</p><p>“The pleasure is mine,” Lucille responded. Lela insisted upon good manners and had drilled her girls in them repeatedly. </p><p>“Will you stay and watch the filming this afternoon?” </p><p>“I don’t know… Lela, may I?” Lucille was hopeful and Lela nodded affirmatively. “Wonderful! I’ll look forward to it.”</p><p>Lucille couldn’t believe her good fortune. To get to watch Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire film a dance sequence together! The pair were well on their way to becoming legends. Certainly, everyone in Hollywood waited for the follow-up film to “The Gay Divorcee”, which had made a ton of money in the middle of the Great Depression, pulled RKO out of bankruptcy, and made Fred and Ginger up and coming stars. </p><p>“I’ll see you later then,” Ginger responded and gave her mother a warm hug. </p><p>“See you later, sweetheart,” Lela said, and pushed Lucille ahead of her out the door.</p><p>“Bye Lucy!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Raising Cain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When doors close, other doors open. But are they the right doors and do Fred and Ginger have the courage to walk through them into the unknown?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A few hours later, Ginger stood under the hot overhead lights and enjoyed the ice cold air conditioning being pumped onto the Café Russe set. She was planning a little surprise for Fred with this song. She’d warned him that she’d be hard to handle and she wanted a bit of fun revenge for his tease yesterday. Though, to be honest, she would have felt bad if she had actually hit him with her shoe. </p><p>The band members rustled in their seats behind her, and she turned to them. “Okay, here we go, boys! Let’s have some fun!”</p><p>The musicians cheered quietly and returned to waiting for Bill to call ‘action’. They would enjoy this sequence regardless of how it went because they had essentially ring-side seats to the outfit that Ginger was singing and dancing in, a tight pantsuit with flared legs that she fit well. They knew better than to openly ogle her, though. It took away from the lead actors, and Fred didn’t like it. Even though many of them were Ginger’s age, they had to mind their p’s and q’s or else they’d be looking for work. </p><p>She shielded her eyes and looked out from the stage into the soundstage. She couldn’t see much. For some reason, the lights seemed much brighter today than usual. She could make out Adele in the chairs, and Hermes and it seemed like a lot of other people were lounging around, lining the walls and setting up chairs. She assumed that they had more of an audience as news of their great dances was filtering through the studio. The idea that people were so excited to see her and Fred dance made her happy, and she turned around to chat with the band members again.</p><p>Who she didn’t see in the audience was Lew. He had entered quietly, unannounced, and made his way to the back of the sound stage, out of the way but camouflaged by all the other men in suits. He just wanted to sit quietly and watch his wife dance. They were on very poor terms right now. The holidays had added a lot of stress to their new marriage, following on the heels of her running away, and their quick wedding. He definitely felt a lot of regrets about how things were working out. He liked Ginger, he really did, and probably even loved her. But now that they were married, he was already getting way too many “Mr. Ginger Rogers” jokes and he didn’t like it one damn bit. He had the notion that she would settle down and give up this acting and dancing nonsense. It wasn’t proper for a woman to be making more money than her husband or to be more famous. He had thought that she’d be the perfect partner to understand the film business and support him from behind the scenes. Ginger had said often enough that she was a perfect Christian girl, a devout Christian Scientist, who had old-fashioned ideas, but it wasn’t exactly working out to be that way. She defied him at every turn, insisting on her career and refusing to talk about having children and she most definitely made a lot more money than him. She was RKO’s golden girl. It irked him to no end. He was here today to see if there was anything to the rumor he was hearing about her taking up with Fred Astaire again. His possessive behavior during Ginger’s disappearance made his blood boil. It was disgusting and he would put an end to it and put his wife in her proper place. </p><p>Randy Scott leaned against the set piece and chatted with Fred. They were just waiting around for Bill to get everyone wrangled. They were already past the allotted time for starting today, and everyone was just milling around, waiting. Apparently a piece of the camera had broken and they were waiting for a  replacement piece. It didn’t make anyone happy.</p><p>“Hey, Fred, whatcha got going after “Roberta” wraps?” he asked.</p><p>Fred was looking from behind the set out onto the interior of the Café Russe set. Randy would have bet a million bucks that Ginger was out there in his sights, and she was what had his attention. He smiled to himself. That bloom of first love, and all that passion, was something he remembered fondly when he and Cary were first dating so cautiously. They’d been together now for a year, hidden from the public of course, and he sympathized with these two. He hadn’t come out to them, though. He might soon. If Hermes was their mutual best friend, then they probably didn’t have anything against men who loved men. </p><p>Fred turned his attention back to Randy. The burly ex-football player seemed like a really nice guy, and Fred was enjoying working with him. “Oh, nothing until our next film, whenever that will be. I’m supposed to be having a meeting with the studio suits in a week or so. I think I’m on vacation after this, but who knows? I like to keep my options open.”</p><p>“What’s Ginger doing?” Randy assumed that Fred knew this.</p><p>“Oh, she’s going directly to work on “Star of Midnight” with Bill Powell.” He answered. He did not miss the point that Randy assumed Fred knew her schedule. “It’s starting in two weeks on the 25th, I hear. It’s an RKO film and they’ll be just down the street. Not sure how that’s gonna work, assuming we end on time here on February 15th. I’ll have to look at the shooting schedule again.” </p><p>Now that he thought about it, how WAS Ginger going to be doing two films at once? He’d assumed that they’d wait for her. Maybe, though, she would wrap sooner on “Roberta” than he did. Maybe, they had less time together than he thought. Unconsciously, a frown crinkled his brow.</p><p>Randy grinned as the thoughts played across Fred’s face. He would have to learn to hide his thoughts and feelings a lot better than this if they wanted their secret to remain a secret. </p><p>Fred looked out onto the set and watched Ginger banter with the musicians. She had barely given him the time of day this morning, and it made him deeply suspicious. Usually it meant she had something up her sleeve. These little bits of teasing foreplay made him crazy. </p><p>Randy suddenly clapped him on the shoulder, startling Fred out of his reverie. </p><p>“My friend, you are in deep,” he said and walked off to find a place to watch the dance. His deep chuckle made Fred blush. </p><p>Yep, he was in deep.</p><p> </p><p>**************************</p><p> </p><p>Under the hot lights, Fred jumped up and down a few times to get his blood moving and shake out the jitters he always felt before a first take. That he and Ginger had ran through this dance nearly fifty times in rehearsal didn’t matter at all. Everything that could possibly go wrong ran through his worried mind. He tried to ignore the intrusive thoughts and push them out of his head. He blew out a heavy breath and glanced over at his dance partner. </p><p>“Hey Freddie, relax. We’re just going to have some fun, right?” </p><p>She knew he got nervous and it always amused her. He was the best dancer in the world, and he got butterflies in his stomach. Sometimes she wondered if she should have them, but she never did. She loved it when every eye in the room was on her. It totally made her day when she could make people smile or experience joy. She lived for those moments of awe and applause and laughter. Fred danced because he couldn’t NOT dance. She felt like it was a little bit her job to shake out the nerves.</p><p>“Fred, if I’d known that you were this nervous, I’d have helped you out backstage,” she whispered to him as they sat side by side on the set steps. </p><p>“Oh, stop now. That’s not fair,” Fred whispered back, pretending to tie his shoes. </p><p>“I took care of my own nervousness, you know,” she smirked under her breath. She put her hands behind her head and leaned back, like it was scripted in the dance.</p><p>Fred groaned quietly, “I did not need to know that.”</p><p>“It was really good, too.” She went on mercilessly, her voice quiet for his ears only. “You should have heard the sounds I made.”</p><p>Fred really liked the sounds she made and every one of them ran through his brain instantly. He was absurdly glad that he was wearing a jock strap and that his interest would not be obvious. She was seemingly intent on making him uncomfortable. He could still dance, he could ALWAYS dance, but he had to imagine now about what he’d like to do with her after their dance scene. </p><p>She followed his thoughts with ease. “You know that when I touch myself, I always think of you.”</p><p>She said it a little louder and it made Fred nervous. It was bordering on the edge of the musicians behind them being able to possibly hear them, or the crew just off-stage. Her baby blue eyes glinted mischieviously and a tiny smile quirked her lips. She knew exactly what she was doing and it wound him up a bit tighter. </p><p>Not being able to stand it a moment longer, he jumped to his feet and yanked her up after him. She laughed as he put her in a dance hold and spun her out and back. He needed to keep his muscles warm and ready to dance, and distract himself from her teasing. Unfortunately, she made a point to slam her hip right into his groin, just enough to let him know she knew exactly what he was trying to do. </p><p>Behind them, Hal tapped out the bugle call on the piano quietly and everyone on stage cracked up. They were all getting bored waiting for the camera fix and amusing themselves by watching their leads cavort around doing little dance steps. </p><p>An amused twitter carried through the soundstage, too. The only one who wasn’t amused at the horseplay was Lew. He slunk further back into the shadows and crossed his arms. Those crewmembers who knew who he was awkwardly avoided him, and even those that didn’t, didn’t want to be in the cross hairs of that glare.</p><p>Finally, a production assistant came in with the camera piece and in moments, everything was up and running. The First AD called for quiet on the set and everyone took their places, Fred and Ginger included. Fred laid down on the steps and looked upstage at Ginger with the band. </p><p>Unseen by Fred, Adele swept onto the set and took his chair to watch. She wanted to see this dance, and Fred had sent a car for her. She was a little annoyed that she’d almost missed it, but as they got ready to go again, she realized that she’d gotten here just in time. </p><p>“Action!” Bill called and the film ran quietly through its tracks on the big camera. </p><p>Hal hit the opening chords and Ginger began the ridiculous song “I’ll Be Hard to Handle” in her terrible Polish accent. That she looked perfectly silly, copying the actress who did it this way on the past Broadway version of “Roberta”, didn’t matter to her in the slightest. As long as it made people laugh, she was good with it. She sang and shimmied around the stage in front of the pianos, dancing for Huck. Unfortunately, Bill called “cut” and then they proceeded to do it four more times before they got to Fred’s entrance, and they also did the over-the-shoulder shot of Lizzie/Tanka looking down at Huck. It took an hour and Fred was getting more and more worked up.</p><p>Finally, though, they were able to keep going into the dance portion. Fred was almost giddy with relief. He needed to move.</p><p>When the camera’s kept rolling and Ginger joined him on the steps, Fred breathed a sigh of relief. They could finally dance! After rolling through their dialog, she gave him a glorious smile. He was instantly lost in her eyes, forgetting where he was and only muscle memory moved his feet. They segued into the dance and the game was on. </p><p>As he took Ginger by the waist and stepped into the opening taps, she whispered, “Let’s have some fun!” and he could only answer with “Ahhh!” as he spun her around. </p><p>Momentum carried them across the dance floor and into a tight series of spins. When they came out of the spin and stepped out in perfect form, Fred gloried in the ability to just let go and have a partner who could follow his steps so perfectly. He knew the dance looked spontaneous, though it was the result of many hours hard work, but the smiles were genuine and unforced and he had to work on not shouting out in joy as much as he wanted to. His continual noisy commentary in a dance was one of the reasons that he and Hermes had to re-do the taps in nearly all their dances. As they twirled and stepped around the stage, the band kept perfect time and he was lost to the music and movement and the sensations of Ginger’s warm, strong form in his arms moving together in perfect harmony.<br/>
He was aware that his dance partner was laying on the flirtatious looks and smiles quite thickly. They usually had fun dancing like this in rehearsal but generally toned it down for the camera. However, she was carrying on like they were alone on stage. He loved it. </p><p>“Come on, Freddie, let’s go!” she giggled quietly so that the boom wouldn’t pick up the sound. She held out her arms and waited for him to sweep her into the music.</p><p>Watching her footwork, he found time for amazement. She had learned this tap sequence in the last couple of weeks and she was absolutely nailing it. Her ability to pick up dance moves was amazing. Every time she pulled off another sequence, he could only smile wider at her. As he swung her around exuberantly, he let loose with a “teeheehee” giggle of his own. </p><p>As he focused on the upcoming twirl sequence that led to the more difficult sequences, he could see her eyes glinting at him in a most impish manner. He wondered what she was up to. As the circled around the dance floor he said, “Oh, here we go!”</p><p>“You have no idea,” she answered back, throwing back her head and laughing out loud.</p><p>They swirled back to the right side of the set, and began the dip sequence. He held her tight against him, and she leaned backwards, completely surrendering to him. If he let go of her, she would drop to the floor, as she had only one foot on the ground, a full two feet away from her center of gravity. It was a difficult move, but she’d pulled it off perfectly (once she got the hang of it) every time since.<br/>
This time, however, she added a little something extra. He was so surprised that he nearly dropped her. Every time he dipped her, she moaned LOUDLY. It sounded exactly like when they were having really good sex. Every time. Each moan made adrenaline course through his system. He kept dancing, his training taking over, and he shouted out “Oh!” in surprise. He kept dancing, but he was distracted by what he wanted to do with her as soon as they wrapped this sequence. If he had his way, they wouldn’t even make it to the couch. </p><p>The band hit the bugle call and he watched with admiration as she handled the difficult footwork perfectly, and they danced in perfect synchronicity through the complicated tempo modulations. She grinned at him again in triumph, and he almost forgot to act as he smiled in return. However, he focused his attention back on the dance in time, and started the tap “argument”. He hoped this part got a lot of laughs. If this was theater, people would be roaring with laughter, but on the film stage, it was silent, of course. It was one difference that he was still getting used to. Finally, perfectly in character, Lizzie slaps Huck, and then stomps his foot. Fred noticed with pride that Ginger’s timing was absolutely perfect. This was so much fun; he almost hoped she’d screw up something so that they’d have to do it again. And he really wanted to hear those delicious moans again.</p><p>The end of the dance was upon them before he knew it and they did the dip sequence again. This time, however, she did not moan. </p><p>“What, cat got your tongue?” he whispered as they twirled, and the last bugle call rang out.</p><p>As they twirled in the last jubilant spins of the dance, she threw in an ‘O’ face that she knew he’d see and recognize in post-production with the editors. </p><p>Finally, they collapsed into the two chairs on the side of the set, and took a bow to their audience of band members, the maid and the bar tenders.</p><p>As Bill yelled “Cut!” and the crew made the rafters shake with applause, Ginger turned to him and whispered, “You’ll have to wait,” she said, “like you made me wait yesterday.”</p><p>Ah, revenge was sweet.</p><p>Catching their breathe, the two dancers swept a bow to the crew who cheered them on. </p><p> </p><p>*******************************</p><p> </p><p>Adele, sitting on the sidelines with Hermes, jumped to her feet and cheered loudly. She was amazed at the dance. She’d never, ever seen her little brother like this before. Hermes had told her before that all of the dances on “Roberta” were original creations that Fred made specifically with Ginger’s abilities in mind. She was simply flabbergasted that the girl could dance like that and keep up with Fred. It was a stunning performance. At that moment, Adele realized that Fred was absolutely going to make it as a dancer in Hollywood. And she hoped like hell that he realized it was Ginger who had just made him a star. </p><p> </p><p>*******************************</p><p> </p><p>Clapping slowly in the back of the stage, so as not to be the only one not applauding, Lew was overwhelmed. First off, he had no idea that his wife could dance like that. Secondly, it was blatantly obvious that Ginger and Fred were absolutely smitten with each other.  Their smiles and giggles throughout the dance were indisputable flirtatious and their joy in each other undeniable. It made him sick to his stomach to realize that he could never make her that happy. She had never smiled at him like that in their entire year of dating. He slowly moved through and around the clutches of elated crew members and executives, and left the soundstage without telling her that he had been there. They should probably talk when she got home. He would have hours to think about what he should say.</p><p> </p><p>*********************************</p><p> </p><p>Bill Seitler was nearly having kittens. The various studio executives gathered around him slapped him on the back, as if he had anything to do with the successful dance sequence, but he appreciated their encouragement all the same. He couldn’t remember ever being on a show where the crew CHEERED two of its leads in a scene. It was an amazing experience, and he was walking on air. This movie was going to be a box office winner. </p><p>He walked up several yards to the stage and interrupted the two dancers gulping down bottles of cold water. </p><p>“Oh, you two, nicely done!” he gushed, “That was fantastic!”</p><p>“Thanks, Bill,” Fred said, wiping his face with a towel that Hermes threw his direction. </p><p>Bill continued, “Ginger, I had no idea that you could dance like that! You never danced like that in “Rafter Romance” or “Professional Sweetheart!” </p><p>Ginger was also dabbing sweat off her face, more delicately than Fred, with a towel. She didn’t want to mess up her stage makeup or mascara but she couldn’t stop smiling at the praise, “Thank you!”<br/>
“But to be safe, I think we should go again a couple of times. Is that good with you?” Bill knew Fred had complete control over the dance sequences in the film. It was his decisions in the editing room that would recreate the dance on film. </p><p>“Yeah, let’s go again,” Fred agreed. However, he doubted Ginger would surprise him again, and he knew which take was going to be on celluloid forever and in the theater. He chuckled at her little joke and looked up to see her eyes on him, practically glowing with merriment. Oh yeah, he would make sure her moans were forever on film. It would be their little joke. </p><p> </p><p>******************************</p><p> </p><p>A few hours later, after another four takes, the scene was finally in the can. He was tired, but also incredibly wound up. After saying goodnight to Adele, and goodbye to Hermes, he headed for his dressing room. He hoped that he would find his dance partner there. She’d been whirling around the soundstage chatting with everyone, giddy from the success of the day as everyone wrapped up work and prepared to go home. A second later, he heard Ginger laughing with someone nearby, and then her shoes on the floor only a few feet behind him. </p><p>He turned to her in the hall. “Nice work today, baby.”</p><p>“Thanks. You moved pretty well for an old man.” She teased, catching up with him and grabbing him around the waist. Together, he dancing backwards and she forwards, they moved down the hall.</p><p>“You could use a shower, though,” she added, wrinkling her nose. She didn’t really mind his scent. Hours upon hours of dancing with him in rehearsal had made her rather immune to it. However, it was certainly always fun to tease him. </p><p>“Hmmm,” he answered noncommittally. They stopped at her door, since it was first. </p><p>“You coming in?” she asked, not letting go of him. </p><p>Glancing around to make sure no one saw him enter her dressing room, she toggled the door behind her and they quickly ducked inside. As was their usual arrangement, he locked the door while she threw some loud music on the record player. </p><p>When she turned around to him, he was already right there in her space. He grabbed her in a dance hold and twirled her around quickly, and backed her into the wall. Holding her wrists, and pinning her with his hips, he leaned in towards her. “What say you make those sounds again?”</p><p>“Make me,” she said, lifting her chin in challenge. She tried keeping a straight face, but dissolved into laughter.</p><p>He moved her around and stripped her out of the outfit, with her helping. Not bothering to take off his shirt, he divested himself of the rest of his clothing, and shoved her against the wall. Her delighted giggles drove him into a frenzy. He grabbed one leg and held it tightly as she canted her hips towards him, allowing him to slid deep inside her. Desperately wanting to hear those moans again, he began thrusting just the way that he knew she liked. After waiting all day in a constant state of mild arousal, he was rock hard now and needy. He tucked his head into her neck; she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hung on. Each thrust nearly took her off her feet, but he was hitting everything just right. Partially to reward him and partially because it felt so damn good, she gave in and moaned just the way he wanted to hear. With each thrust, she moaned in his ear until with a deep shuddering groan, he came. With another thrust, she contracted around him and dug her nails into his shoulders, too, reveling in the sensations.</p><p>Breathing heavily, he loosened his grip on her leg and slid out of her. Getting both feet on the floor again, she kept her arms around his neck and he leaned into her, panting hotly into her hair. </p><p>“Damn, Ginge, that was great,” he whispered. He’d never had sex like that with anyone before her. It was a mystery as to why she would give herself to him, but it made him happy like nothing else on earth. This was even better than dancing, which was second on the list. Getting to combine the two was heaven.</p><p>“Yeah, it was,” she answered with a grin that looked like the cat who got the cream. She pushed him gently away and began looking around for street clothes to pull on. Finding them, she gathered them up and headed for the shower. Before closing the door, she looked back and him and said, “Today was fantastic, Freddie. What a lovely way to end the day. Love you.”</p><p>As the bathroom door clicked closed and the sound of the shower began, he pulled on his sweaty wardrobe suit. Peeking carefully out the door, he scrambled to his own dressing room and the shower he so desperately needed. </p><p> </p><p>***********************</p><p> </p><p>Lew heard the car door slam and her keys in the front door lock shortly thereafter. It was late, nearly 1am, and he hadn’t bothered turning on the lights. He preferred to sit in the dark and nurse one glass of whiskey. </p><p>The clicking sound of her low dress shoes allowed him to follow her progress as she moved around the first floor of the large home. First she clicked into the kitchen, and the water turned on and off, then the clicking came his way down the long hallway. As she passed by on the way to the stairs, he stopped her as she came into view.</p><p>“Hey, Gin…” he began.</p><p>She startled and screamed, dropping the glass on the floor. Water and shards flew everywhere. </p><p>“God dammit, Lew!” she pushed back the hair that had fallen out of it's pin and into her face, and put her hand over her heart. “You scared the daylights out of me.”</p><p>This probably hadn’t been the best way to begin a conversation. “Ooops, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”</p><p>“Well, you did. Go get some towels or something!” She bent down to start carefully picking up large pieces of glass.</p><p>In moments, he was back with a couple of kitchen towels and a frying pan. She dumped the glass in the pan and they continued to clean up the mess together. </p><p>“Speaking of messes, I think I’ve kind of made a mess of things.” </p><p>She looked at him warily. Leaving her to mop up the water and wonder about his words, he took the glass to the kitchen trash and dumped it in. Taking the towels from her, he tossed them in the sink. He’d worry about it tomorrow. Taking a deep breath and hoping he would say the right things, he returned to the living room.</p><p>Ginger was right where he’d left her. It grieved his heart that she looked like she was scared. Scared of him. He held out his hand to her and she took it, though he could tell she did so reluctantly.</p><p>“I know it’s late, but come sit down, will ya?” he led her to her favorite chair, while he perched on the couch. Picking up the glass of whiskey, he caught her discouraged look. She hated alcohol and any sort of drinking. He set the glass far away from him on the coffee table. That was a sure way to put her on the defensive and he cursed himself for not thinking of it.</p><p>Instead, he put his head in his hands and gathered his courage.</p><p>“I was at the stage today,” he began. She startled slightly, looking like a deer in the headlights, and crossed her arms over her chest. “You danced beautifully.”</p><p>“Thank you?” she answered. Her heart was hammering inside her chest. </p><p>“Gin, we’ve been married a whole two months and I know that I could never make you that happy.” He got it out in a rush. The image of his wife’s huge smiles and happy laughter during the dance taunted him. “As happy as Fred makes you.”</p><p>She tried to control her gasp. Drawing on every bit of acting she’d ever done, she sat in silence and let him have his say. She didn’t dare move. Sometimes when Lew got angry, he got violent and shouted and pushed. His demeanor didn’t look like that tonight but that could change; he was obviously upset.</p><p>“You were at the set today?” she squeaked out. She held her hands together to stop the shaking.</p><p>He nodded miserably. “It was fantastic. The movie’s going to be a hit.” </p><p>“Thanks,” she said in a tiny voice. </p><p>“So Gin, I’ve been doing some thinking.” He could see her tense on the couch, prepared for explosive action. “I know that we’ve been married for all of two months and… this isn’t going well. I know it, you know it and probably the whole damn world knows it.”</p><p>She remained silent, and looked at her hands clutched in her lap.</p><p>“I can see where your heart lies.” He ground out the words, as if they were broken glass in his throat. “And I don’t want to be the cause of your unhappiness.” </p><p>She looked up at him in surprise, her blue eyes wide with shock, but still cagey, distrustful of his intentions. </p><p>He didn’t want to be angry with Ginger, but he couldn’t help the bitterness that crept into his voice. “You can’t believe, though, that he’d actually leave his wife for you? He can’t. It would be a disaster for the studio, to have their two rising stars embroiled in such shenanigans. They would never tolerate it. They’d fire you both and you’d have nothing and neither would he.”</p><p>He waited to see how she would answer, every muscle in his body tight with stress. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, “I know that.”</p><p>In those simple words, she acknowledged what he suspected. It hit him like a fist to his gut and he took a moment to breathe. He nodded his head and looked at his feet again. It was a long moment before he could speak again. </p><p>He’d spent the last several hours thinking things through. He had come to several conclusions. First of all, he did love Ginger but he really didn’t know her as well as he thought he did. He hadn’t realized that she and Fred had dated in New York, nor that they’d been lovers; she had told him once only that she’d met Fred there and he’d given her dance lessons. Obviously it had been much, much more than dance lessons going on and he’d had no clue. Secondly, she really wasn’t going to be the good Christian housewife that he wanted. When she’d been onstage basking in the applause from the crew, he had realized that she would never, ever give this up. She was a born performer and acting was blood in her veins. She was always the life of the party, but she’d wither on the vine if all she had to do was host garden parties and be a good hostess. Third, they just were not on the same trajectory in life.  She was a rising star, and he had no desire to be a house husband or ride her tail coats. He had his own career to worry about. </p><p>“So, where do we go from here, Gin? I don’t want to hold you back, and I’m really sorry to say this, but I don’t want to be known as “Ginger’s husband”, know what I mean?”</p><p>She nodded slowly, relieved that he wasn’t going to start yelling. With regret, he realized that he yelled at her far too much. It was his own frustrations that made him lash out and she was his target more often than not. He resented her success, and he resented that it was going to happen with Fred Astaire. They were contractually obligated for several more movies and this was an issue that was NOT going to disappear any time soon. It wasn’t fair to her to be angry at her success. Maybe it wasn’t entirely fair to be angry at her for still being in love with Fred. He’d been a part of her life for far longer than he himself had. Well, maybe he was entitled to a little bit of anger. She had agreed to marry him after all. Though, he also had pushed her into that. </p><p>“I’m sorry that you feel that way, Lew,” she said in a low choked voice. “I don’t know what to do.”</p><p>Failing at a second marriage broke her divided heart. On one hand, she did have a great need to be a part of a couple. On the other hand, she relished her freedom and the opportunity to pursue her own goals. Being a career woman was frowned upon in society, and she frequently felt alone in her need to succeed. She wasn’t sure how to juggle both things, and she was failing miserably. Lew had really surprised her tonight, and she was coming to some uncomfortable realizations. </p><p>“I think maybe I married you because I still had a crush on you,” she said, embarrassed at having to tell him. "And Lela thought me marrying you would settle me down."</p><p>Both statements were true, she’d had a crush on the famous actor Lew Ayers since her teenage years. Meeting him and beginning to date when she’d moved to Hollywood was a dream come true. Now that dream was a reality, and reality was much more difficult than fantasy and her childish imaginings. She knew Lela had hoped that marriage would settle her down, but she wasn’t ready to settle down. A relationship was hard work, and she wasn’t sure she was up to it. “I’m not very good at being a wife. I'm not ready to settle down yet.”</p><p>Her admission made a rotten amount of sense to Lew. He had already acknowledged to himself while sitting in the dark thinking, that he’d married her partly because she was glamourous and fun, and would look fabulous on his arm at parties. It had been a bit of a shock to realize that beneath that pretty exterior was an iron will, an incredibly strong work ethic and an unbreakable determination to succeed that dwarfed his own ambitions. She wasn’t capable of working too hard at a relationship when she was married to work… especially when her work involved Fred. Their marriage didn’t stand a chance under these circumstances.  </p><p>Swallowing what remained of his pride, he said, “And maybe I married you because I thought you’d be a helpmate, helping me establish my career and look good while doing so.”</p><p>Her eyes flashed in anger at that admission, but it was the truth, even if it hurt. Tit for tat, here. Neither of them were guilt-free. </p><p>“So, now what?” she said after getting her flush of anger under control and swallowing her own pride.</p><p>“Well… what say we start over?,” he put forth, “Just start by being friends and see what happens. I do like you and sometimes I even love you. I have no big desire for a high-profile divorce, and neither do you. I propose that we just stay where we are, here. Share the space, live our separate lives and see what happens.”</p><p>“The house IS huge…” she answered, considering the offer. The house was nearly four thousand square feet and had six bedrooms. Since they were both working, they hardly saw one another as it was. It wouldn’t be that difficult to avoid one another on purpose.</p><p>“I can move into the room at the other end of the hallway, tomorrow, if you like,” he sighed, relieved that their discussion had actually been a discussion and not devolved into another screaming fight. “This way, we both get a little bit of what we want. I want the house and the appearance of a happy wife. You want a career and Fred. I think we can make it work better than our actual marriage? But it’s got to be a secret, Gin, if we’re going to make it work.”</p><p>Her laugh was more like a sob. Secrets, secrets and more secrets. She could live with that. He was being far more fair than she had expected, and likely deserved. It wasn’t every day that your husband caught you cheating and agreed that it was for the best. It had been a long hard day, full of dance, sex and now this. She swayed on her feet, utterly exhausted and suddenly overwhelmed with the enormity of it all. </p><p>He held out his arms and she stepped into his hug. The embrace even felt different, now. Sniffling back tears, they went to bed and lay back to back, each settling into their own thoughts of gain and loss until sleep crept up on them.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Lovely To Look At</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You ready?” he asked, glancing around the see if anyone was around them. It appeared that they were alone back behind the set wall, so he dropped a kiss onto her bare shoulder. Her dazzling smile answered him and she nodded.</p><p>Hitting the beat, they tapped out in an exultant finale to an upbeat version of the song.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What is it, Ginge?” Fred asked as she came out of her dressing room in the most fabulous black silk gown he’d ever seen. However lovely the dress was, however, Ginger somehow looked more stunning. It wasn’t just her hair up in the sparkly, jeweled partial-snood or the perfect makeup. She was glowing and couldn’t stop smiling. </p><p>“I’ll tell you later,” she said, taking his hand. </p><p>Oblivious to the admiring looks they garnered as they walked down the hallway to the set, they entered and took their places, he to the band area and her to the backstage area. Stepping carefully into the darkness of the backstage area, she could hear the faint rustle of fabric and shoes, and even a couple of whispers of her name. A couple dozen extras dressed to kill waited their turn on the “Fashion Show” catwalk and they made room for her silently as they waited their cues. They had already shot the individual models parading around the room to be admired, and it had taken all morning. Now, this line up would be the direct lead-in to Fred and Ginger’s dance. She spotted Lucille and the girl smiled brightly at her.</p><p>Lucille shuffled over to Ginger where she stood, with a ring of space around her. No one else dared crowd the dancer and the star of the show, but Lucille didn’t get that memo. She bumped her with a shoulder. </p><p>“Hi, how ya’ doing?” she whispered.</p><p>Ginger regarded her with surprise, a smile creeping onto her features. Sometimes she felt like a different creature than the background extras, alienated from other girls because of her position at the studio and her success at such a young age. The extras seldom spoke to her. Lucille was dressed to the nines in a slinky gown of white silk, complete with a huge feathered cape. Her platinum blond hair was piled high on her head in a mass of perfect curls and waves and her blue eyes, as bright and stunning as Ginger’s own, sparkled in the dim light. </p><p>“I’m fine,” Ginger whispered back. She felt suddenly like a little girl telling secrets in her old treehouse to childhood friends. “This is going to be so much fun.”</p><p>“Hell yes, it is!” Lucille returned happily. She struck an over-the-top pose and the two young women giggled quietly, while the other extras looked at Lucille in dismay. Obviously she didn’t know that you weren’t supposed to bother the lead actors before a scene. They pitied the ignorant girl. She was going to get fired before the end of the night. </p><p>Ginger saw the Assistant Director looking on in horror at their conversation, and Ginger gave him a wink. She was perfectly fine with Lucille talking to her, and a sudden liking for this fearless, tall, and slightly gawky girl enveloped her. Ginger didn’t have many friends her own age. She didn’t have time for it, with working consistently since she was seventeen, and headlining films now for a studio that put her under a lot of pressure to perform and keep it out of bankruptcy. She was twenty three years old, and the pressures of fame already weighed heavily on her. She could use a girlfriend. She reached over and squeezed Lucille’s hand. </p><p>Instead of letting go, however, Lucille clutched it tight. “Call me Lucy,” she said. As she looked over at the AD for her cue to go on, she missed the huge smile that lit up Ginger’s face.  The Assistant Director gave her a wave, to take her place in the lineup and a rustle of gowned women made a space for their errant associate. </p><p>Before Lucy moved to take her place in line, she gave Ginger’s hand another squeeze. She took a deep breath and smoothed down her immaculate gown one more time. “Good luck with your dance. I’ll be watching, if the AD will let us.”</p><p>Ginger patted her on the back and said, “I’m sure he will. Lela’s out there somewhere, go find her. Break a leg!”</p><p>She stepped back while the girls went on stage one at a time for the Fashion Show. Trying not to interrupt the AD, she whispered, “Make sure she gets to watch us dance.”</p><p> </p><p>*******************************</p><p> </p><p>Finally, it was Ginger’s cue to join the line at the very end, and she was nearly alone backstage in the darkness. She’d be modeling the last gown in the Fashion Show, and it would lead directly into the dance, “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes.” She felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach and took a deep breath, and took one more opportunity to stretch. There was nothing to worry about. She knew the dance backwards and forwards, and besides, Fred was waiting for her out there. The thought settled her and she straightened her shoulders. Besides, if she messed up, they’d just go again. They’d probably be doing this dance for the next several hours for numerous takes for different camera angles anyway. </p><p>The musical cue hit, and the AD waved her out. Snugging the long fur wrap around her shoulders, she marched out with stately steps into the lights. </p><p>It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bright overhead lights but all she had to do was march for a few feet. Her eyes immediately went to where she knew Fred waited for her with the musicians on her left. His gentle, proud smile settled her immediately and made her heart soar. She made the turn, showing off the floor length robe for the Fashion Show and walked right up to him. As soon as she knew the camera was over her shoulder, she winked at him and his smile deepened. Some of the musicians smiled, too, and gave her admiring glances. But none of them beat Fred’s smile. His eyes were shining with love.</p><p>He slipped the robe from her shoulders and passed it to the guitar player sight unseen behind him. He only had eyes for her.</p><p> Unfortunately, Bill yelled “Cut!” and they did the entrance twice more. He wanted several different options for everything. As frustrating as it was to have their momentum interrupted, it was only the entrance. Fred had insisted that the dance be in one single take. That would be their moment. It wasn’t that difficult to keep her focus. Walking out to Fred’s smile and admiring look was perfectly satisfying. Besides, she liked the dress and the fur robe, and getting to strut around looking fabulous was something she delighted in.</p><p>Out in the audience between takes, she could see several groups of people that mattered to her. Lela and Lucille had found seats and she could see Lela was coaching her even now, whispering in the girls’ ear and pointing things out. Around the director were several studio executives, apparently staying for quite a while today. Usually they came and went and no one gave it much thought, but they’d made themselves quite at home behind the monitor, with chairs and tables, snacks and mugs of coffee steaming beside them. The other grouping was Hermes and Adele. It gave her quite a thrill that the famous dancer, and Fred’s older sister, was in the audience watching her dance again. She craved Adele’s approval for a half dozen reasons.</p><p>After a new camera set up, the tracks being moved a good ten feet closer, they went again. She did the last turn, slipped off the robe, and his song began. She loved Fred’s voice. His diction was perfect and the song suited him so well, perfectly in his range. And the words… the words were so romantic, it gave her a thrill every time to hear them. Jerome Kern, the famous composer and lyricist of the music, had written specifically for Fred to sing to her in this movie. That they were able to sing and perform to original music was one of the most amazing things about their budding success. The lyrics seemed to apply equally to their Huck and Lizzie characters as much as it applied to their own lives. </p><p>She let the music fill her up and let his gaze become the only thing that she could see until she couldn’t look away from him. The only thing she regretted slightly was that she had to sing in the silly Scharwenka fake Polish accent, but even that was no deterrent to her ecstasy. Even though they did the song another four times, Fred’s focus never faltered, so neither did hers. It was easy to act with Fred; his perfectionism made it nearly effortless to stay in character. She didn’t dare disappoint him, especially not when he was looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world to him. Between takes, she stayed away from anyone else, standing by herself under the lights until Bill directed her to hit her mark. </p><p>Lela watched with approval as her little girl demonstrated perfect competence and professionalism. Again and again, for several hours now, they shot the same things over and over, and her concentration never wavered. It gave her a thrill of pride that her daughter was becoming an actress of acclaim. Beside her, Lucille watched in silence. Lela had the feeling that she was absorbing everything that she saw; from Ginger and Fred on set, to everything that was transpiring between the director and the executives, to what Adele and Hermes were whispering about. </p><p>Hermes and Adele were indeed whispering together, their heads close together.</p><p>“Hermes, what the hell!” Adele said, quietly. “I can practically feel the connection between them from here. Where did they learn to do that?”</p><p>Hermes shrugged. “It’s just them, Adele. It’s just the way they are.”</p><p>A shiver went down Hermes’ spine. The way Fred was looking at Ginger, while completely in character, was causing ripples of whispering to flicker through the soundstage between takes. When he and Fred had hammered out this dance, and then turned around and taught it to Ginger, it had been a lovely, romantic thing. Now, with Ginger dancing and Fred singing it under the lights, it had taken on a life of its own. Hermes couldn’t take his eyes off her as she stood alone, silhouetted under the bright lights, the slinky silk black dress contrasting dramatically with the sparkly white jewels in her curly golden hair. She looked like a statue, her eyes closed in concentration, unapproachable and above the dramas of mere humans. Not to be dramatic or anything, but he felt like maybe he was watching a little bit of history being made. It wasn’t often that you got to say that, but he felt in his heart that it was true. </p><p>Adele watched her brother. He stood apart, tapping one foot quietly on a step, looking handsome in his tux, perfectly put together. Even though he was not standing with Ginger currently, she felt like she could almost see a connection between them. It was chemical and magical and magnetic. She had no idea how they were doing it. At that moment, all her doubts about their secret romance vanished. That they were somehow linked together was obvious to her. From now on, she would support them however she could. </p><p>Based on the frustrating experience of choppy editing of their romantic duet in “The Gay Divorcee”, Fred had complete control over the editing of all dance sequences put into his contract. Finally, they got to the actual dance. Fred smiled as the camera moved back in order to film the entire dance sequence in one take.  He was ready. Looking over at Ginger, she opened her eyes and caught his gaze immediately. They moved at the same time to their marks.</p><p>Taking it from the top of the stairs, they began filming and an anticipatory silence fell over the soundstage.</p><p>The orchestra began, and they walked down the stairs in perfect uniformity, their steps to the beat, not even looking at the stairs. Ginger was in four inch heels but it didn’t seem to matter. Her steps were confident. When they reached the dancefloor, Huck and Lizzie flow together across the floor, holding her by her fingertips and he swung her around gently, as if she were a porcelain doll who was incredibly fragile. It led to a gently rocking pattern where they were face to face mirroring each other, barely four inches apart but not touching. Their gazes were locked and it seemed as if they were bound together by an invisible cord. The characters of Huck and Lizzie melted away and everyone in the room knew they were watching Fred and Ginger dance a love story. </p><p>The side by side moves flowed into an easy rocking dance with multiple crossover steps, and suddenly Fred took her in his arms for the first time in the dance, his large hands flat on her waist, holding her tightly against him. The gentle music continued, and they changed directions several times, in perfect unison. Their eyes locked on one another, and they moved seamlessly into the full spin. Ginger suddenly leaned back in Fred’s arms. His strong hand held her up and she committed herself to the backbend. Hermes heard the gasp and smiled. It was one of the dramatic moves in the dance, but he hoped the gasp wasn’t heard by the sound equipment. </p><p>Ginger pulled out of the dip perfectly, nearly without support, while moving her feet the entire time. The tempo picked up and the song burst into a more suspenseful score. A series of perfectly mirrored swirls, twirls and leaps followed, and the weighted silk dress flared in breathtaking flows at exactly the right moments, emphasizing her feminine physique and curves against Fred’s straight lines. Her fantastic legs were on display as the dress swirled to its full extent. Snapping back quickly, the two dancers twirled a half dozen times to the back of the stage, and Ginger spun around Fred and dropped suddenly into a full backbend. Absolutely trusting him not to drop her, she let her head drop back nearly to the floor. The only thing keeping her from a fall was Fred’s arm, perfectly positioned to catch her, holding up her entire weight. She let her hand trail upon the dance floor. </p><p>Fred raised her up carefully, and they walked forward softly together, his large hand gently cradling her head on his shoulder. A smile ghosted his lips. It was a shocking, vulnerable moment of intimacy. Another soft sigh went through the watching people on set. </p><p>The music changed as the let go of one another and began another mirrored dance. Light and bouncy, it became playful and for the first time in the dance, she grinned at Fred, a teasing smile as they did shoulder turns around one another, flowing like water. It seemed that they had completely forgotten that they were not alone. They twirled seamlessly, meeting and holding hands, until the music swirled again with the concluding melody. With a sudden movement, they both jumped backwards up three stairs and back at least three feet. Landing perfectly, even in four inch skinny heels, Ginger spun one more time, straight onto Fred’s waiting arm. Arm in arm, they exited the stage.</p><p>There was a moment of astonished silence on the set. Quietly, Bill said, “Cut!”</p><p>Fred and Ginger came back out from behind the set, grinning like crazy. They knew they had nailed it on the first take. </p><p>Every person on the set was on their feet, cheering and clapping. The spell broken, they went wild. Fred and Ginger took a bow, laughing, and took a second at the sustained applause. Finally, Bill and the AD’s hushed everyone up and set up for another take. Excited babble filled the soundstage.</p><p>While the camera was being reset and new film installed, Merian Cooper, RKO Head of Production, sat in his chair, deep in thought. What he had just witnessed had dollar signs written all over it. During the dance, he had alternated between watching the dancers and the people watching the performance, spellbound. They all looked rather stunned at the conclusion and Cooper considered. He stood up and paced behind the cameras, listening to the responses of the crew and others gathered here to watch today. What he heard was heartening. He paused and stuck his hands into his pockets, and watched Fred and Ginger accept congratulatory praise. </p><p>Obviously, there was something going on with these two. The studio would absolutely not tolerate anything that could damage its reputation. He’d have to put in a word to the wise. Looking at their beaming, happy faces, it was not something that he would take any joy in doing. Fred was worth every dime they’d spent on him thus far, performing more than adequately, with great potential. Ginger was the small but busy studio’s pride and joy. Movie-goers adored her and she always got the highest marks of any actor and actress at RKO when they did satisfaction surveys. He didn’t see any way to replace her, though there were other dancers that he could find. The magic was between these two. If Astaire and Rogers did have something going and then broke up, it could be disastrous for the studio coffers. His frown intensified. Maybe some pre-emptive rumors of them barely tolerating each other could counteract any rumors of an affair. He’d have to think more on damage control ideas. </p><p>He didn’t notice the statuesque blond until she stepped up beside him. Feeling someone close by, he turned to see her brilliant blue eyes on him. He didn’t know who she was, in street clothes now, though he thought she might be a background actress from the fashion show. He decided to question her a bit, get a feel for what an average joe thought about this duo. Gesturing towards the actors on set, preparing for a second take, he asked “What did you think of that?” </p><p>Her guileless blue eyes twinkled at him most delightfully. “I think it’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen,” she gushed. She sighed and clasped her hands together over her heart. </p><p>He nodded. He could at least agree with that assessment. </p><p>She pretended like she had no idea who he was, though she could identify every executive on the sound stage right now. She’d memorized their faces and all the pertinent details. </p><p>“I’ve heard scary rumors that the studio isn’t very financially stable. I hope they can continue to make movies like this!” He became guarded but she rambled on innocently, gesturing towards Fred and Ginger, “Isn’t it amazing that the weight of the whole studio is on the slim shoulders of these two? They are amazing!” </p><p>He nodded noncommittally, and she disappeared back into the crowd behind him. Her guileless-appearing eyes became shrewd and calculating as she watched him think. She might be new to this level of film work, and this might be her first big break, but she had a good idea of how to play this game. </p><p>After a moment of reflection, he moved purposefully towards the stage phone, to the side where a Production Assistant sat, babysitting it. Dialing, he paused and Lucille, hovering just out of his sight, listened in. </p><p>“Darlene, get me Pandro Berman on the line right now. Yeah.” He paused and waited for the other executive to pick up the call, “Hey, what’s next in the pipeline for Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers? What else do we have ready to go? Oh… Well… Push that back… I want “Top Hat” brought up next… I don’t care who has signed a contract … Tell him he’s waiting another couple of months… Yes… Call their agents.” </p><p>There was a silence from Cooper as he listened on the line. “Yeah, as soon as she wraps on “Star of Midnight”, give her a week off and push straight into rehearsals for “Top Hat”. Give Fred whatever time he needs, and set a meeting to hammer out a production schedule….give them whatever they want.  And I want a meeting with both of them, individually and privately. Make it happen. I want it all on the books by next week.” </p><p>He set the receiver down gently and smiled in the darkness. </p><p>Returning to the front of the set, Lucy settled in next to Lela to watch the rest of the day’s work. Lela wondered at the satisfied smile on Lucy’s face. </p><p>As they shot the dance another four times, it was a long, long day but Lucille didn’t care. It was an utter delight to watch. </p><p> </p><p>*****************************</p><p> </p><p>Early the next morning, Fred padded on his bare feet into his living room, still tired but elated with yesterday’s successful dance. Grabbing the carton of orange juice form the refrigerator, he chugged it straight from the jug. He had a few hours for rehearsal this morning and two small non-dance scenes this afternoon, but it was a short day to give the dancers time to recover from yesterday’s long hours of dance. He sighed with contentment and looked out the breakfast nook at his prize roses, naked in the winter bluster, shaking slightly with the cold wind. A gust shook the window panes.<br/>
</p><p>He jumped when Phyllis came into the kitchen, unnoticed and unheard until she cleared her throat. </p><p>He guiltily held the carton in front of him. She hated when he drank straight out of it. </p><p>“Morning, Phyll. So, guess what?” he began, brightly. He had no idea how badly she was going to react to this. </p><p>One perfectly shaped raised eyebrow answered him. </p><p>“We got news last night that our next movie has been moved up. When we wrap “Roberta”, we’re moving right into “Top Hat”. The studio loves what we’ve been doing and they want to strike while the iron is hot. And after that, they have another one ready for the fall, but it doesn’t have a title yet.” He got it all out in a rush, crossing his fingers behind him. He really hoped that she wouldn’t blow her top.<br/>
</p><p>Phyllis busied herself with making a cup of tea. Ignoring Fred’s comment, she filled the teapot with water and fished around in the cupboard for an Irish brand of teabag that Adele had gifted them. Slipping it into her favorite cup, she turned to him while the water heated on the stove. </p><p>She held him with her gaze, until the smile began to slip of his face. </p><p>“So, what you’re telling me is that you’ll be working with Ginger pretty much this entire year.”</p><p>Putting the orange juice back in the fridge, he grabbed an apple from the countertop basket, so that he had something to do with his hands. He did not want her to see how they had begun to shake. “Yes, that’s right.”</p><p>He could hear the water in the kettle begin to perk. Everything seemed suddenly loud. He could hear the clock ticking the seconds by. His own heartbeat sounded loud in his ears. Her eyes were cold and hard and he got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Outwardly calm, he nibbled at the fruit.</p><p>She leaned against the countertop, watching the kettle and tapping one perfectly manicured nail on the stove. “Do you know what happens when I call the production office looking for you, Fred?”<br/>
</p><p>He swallowed. “Um no, what?”</p><p>“Silence. I get silence, Fred, and then whispering as they try to figure out where you are. Then they take a message and say they’ll deliver it and I never hear from you.”</p><p>He was beginning to sweat. He might have forgotten to call her a few times, now that she mentioned it. </p><p>She sighed heavily. “I’m not stupid, Fred. It’s not hard to figure out that you and that girl have something going on. Again.”</p><p>Fred really didn’t want to have this conversation. He detested confrontations. He had never wanted to hurt her. None of this was her fault, but if he was honest with himself, there wasn’t anything that he would do differently. Guilt bubbled up from his stomach.</p><p>She continued relentlessly. Her voice was hard, implacable and bordering on vicious. He gaped at her, seeing a whole new side of her personality. Now he understood why a whole lot of people in Hollywood were afraid of her. The phrase, “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” came to mind.</p><p>“I loved you, Fred. You were kind, and gentle, and fun. I don’t doubt that’s what she sees in you, too.  Now is the time to prove your integrity. Don’t get your hopes up that I’ll divorce you, because that’s not going to happen. I want your name, maybe your friendship again someday … and I want a baby, Fred. You give me that, and you have my silence. Stay with me, act like a decent husband when you’re not at work. I’ve been divorced once, and twice would be scandalous; don’t abandon us. File for divorce, and I will not go down without a fight, and I promise you - it will get ugly. I have to protect Peter. He thinks of you as his father already, you know. He’s only four, Fred, and he loves you.” </p><p>She paused, and the tea kettle reached full boil, whistling hard. She poured the boiling hot water over her tea bag efficiently. Holding the delicate china cup and saucer, she looked him straight in the eye.<br/>
</p><p>“Give me a baby, give me a piece of you that I can have forever … and you can have her.”</p><p>He was stunned speechless. Her words crashed around in his suddenly empty mind. He found it hard to breathe and he held onto the counter against the sudden dizziness. Numbly, he nodded his agreement. </p><p> </p><p>********************</p><p> </p><p>Later that morning, he went through the final dance number on the currently empty cavernous soundstage set, and forgot the next step. He stood there, surprised at himself. This hadn’t happened in decades. A rerun of the argument ran through his mind and he rubbed the bridge of his nose to dispel the image.</p><p>Ginger was instantly at his side. Her blue eyes were wide with concern. He had been preoccupied all morning and it was weirding her out. She couldn’t remember when he’d ever forgotten a dance step. It was just her and Fred on the set this morning, the only sounds their conversation and the taps of their shoes. “What is it, Freddie?”</p><p>There was no way in hell that he was going to tell her about his fight with Phyllis that morning and what he had been bullied into accepting.</p><p>“Sorry, sweetheart, I had a nightmare last night and it’s lingering in my mind, I guess.” He sat down on the edge of the stage set. It was a half-truth … certainly this morning had been his worst nightmare imaginable. </p><p>She sat next to him and wrapped her strong arm around his waist. “Oh, my poor baby. What was it about?”</p><p>He slung an arm around her shoulders, and breathed in the scent of her newly washed hair as he rested his head on the top of hers, “We were dancing, you and I, and I lost you somewhere.”</p><p>She hugged him tighter, “But you know that’s not going to happen, right?”</p><p>“Right.” He did indeed know that, for now, she was his. He had no idea how to tell her about Phyllis’ ultimatum. He had no idea how she would react. So he didn’t say a word. He would see where things went and handle it as it happened. Taking a deep settling breath, he concentrated on the present; her strong arm around his back and her steady presence. </p><p>“Okay, let’s dance,” he said finally, with renewed determination, and got to his feet. Pulling her up after him, she stepped into his arms, oblivious to the raging storm inside him. </p><p> </p><p>******************************</p><p> </p><p>After regaining his focus, the afternoon came quickly. He tried some meditation techniques to help him narrow his focus to the here and now, and it seemed to help. As the crew and production team assembled again on the Big White Set for the final dance, the familiar sounds and actions soothed him. Getting his head back in the game, he decided to worry about Phyllis later. After all, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it now. He put his worry inside a little room in his mind and shut the door. </p><p>The musicians were in good spirits as the took their seats at the back of the set and the comforting cacophony of a dozen instruments tuning up simultaneously echoed loudly. It would be their last day of work and most were looking forward to some time off. Hal was in an especially good mood, and he badgered until he convinced Fred to play the “I Won’t Dance” duet again to the general delight of everyone within hearing. Hal, of course, already knew that he’d be back at work in a few weeks with the new movie “Top Hat” and the idea of another steady paycheck almost made him giddy with relief.<br/>
Finally, Bill called the set to order and they got down to business. For this scene, there would be only one camera, with very slight moves. Fred had insisted that this short dance be one take. It was an easy set up on the camera crew and they were ready to shoot right on time. </p><p>Fred and Ginger waited just off set, where they exited during the previous dance and waited for their dance cue. </p><p>“You ready?” he asked, glancing around the see if anyone was around them. It appeared that they were alone back behind the set wall, so he dropped a kiss onto her bare shoulder. Her dazzling smile answered him and she nodded.  </p><p>Hitting the beat, they tapped out in an exultant finale to an upbeat version of the song. They tapped down the stairs, side by side, mirroring one another again; their characters victorious in their new engagement. Reaching the dance floor, they broke out into exuberant dance, watching one another and laughing. Catching his eye, repeatedly, each time Ginger danced more enthusiastically, right at the limit of her tapping ability. Fred clapped a little while she had a little solo, and her ecstatic giggle made him smile all the more. Spinning and twirling, they grabbed each other around the waist and promenaded around the floor. After some more jubilant dancing, they frolicked back to the stairs – and bolted up the steps to embrace at the top to the triumphant music finale of trumpets. </p><p>As Ginger threw her arms around him, he had the strongest temptation to kiss her but it wasn’t called for in the script. She saw it in his eyes but leaned away from him just slightly, warning him off. The camera pushed in, which she had forgotten existed until that moment, and Bill yelled “cut”.</p><p>Again, the crew cheered them and delighted laughter filled the stage. Keeping his arm around her, Fred walked them off the set towards his sister, who leapt to her feet applauding.</p><p>“That was amazing!” Adele rushed to give each of them a hug. </p><p>“That dance pushed me!” Ginger exclaimed, as she accepted a bottle of cold water from an attentive Production Assistant with a nod of thanks. No one would guess that she’d had essentially less than a year of tap lessons. She was justifiably proud of her accomplishment. As she stood there, Lela rushed up and hugged her, too. She grabbed her mother’s hands in hers. “Did you like it?”</p><p>“Oh, my, Gin that was amazing!” Her girl was glowing, the happiness flowing off of her in waves. Lela couldn’t have smiled wider. </p><p>Hermes joined the group from where he’d been behind the monitors, and tackled his dance team. He pounded Fred’s back and squeezed Ginger. “Damn, girl, nice job!”</p><p>Bill rushed to the small happy huddle. “That was absolutely fantastic, Fred, Ginger. Absolutely fantastic. I loved every minute of it. But you know we’ve got to go again.” </p><p>He laughed at the mock groans of everyone in the group and walked off to prep the cameras to go again. </p><p>As Fred escorted Ginger backstage to their starting point, he snuck in a quick kiss. “That was absolutely wonderful, darling. You were fantastic.”</p><p>“I really like this dance. It’s so happy.” She paused for a moment, her blue eyes searching his. “Are you happy, Freddie?” </p><p>She watched him in the semi-darkness of the backstage area as the reached their spot. His heart shaped head inclined towards hers as he maneuvered closer while avoiding set construction pieces in the shadows. </p><p>“Yeah,” he said and leaned in to kiss her proper. She threw her arms around him and pulled him tight against her.</p><p>Behind them on set, the music cue came and went. </p><p>One of the musicians left his chair as the music dwindled off raggedly. “Pssst! Hey, you two!” His voice carried in a stage whisper to the two lip-locked dancers. </p><p>“Oh, balls,” Fred exclaimed quietly while Ginger wiped her lower lip and dissolved into silent laughter. </p><p>He waved the amused musician back into his seat and stuck his head around the set piece to where he could see the director and crew. “Sorry! Didn’t hear the cue! Go again!”</p><p>Bill doubted that, but he shook his head and took it again from the top. The band started playing again, and this time, they heard the cue and Fred and Ginger hoofed it out into the bright lights and music.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. And They Danced</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As things wrap up on "Roberta", events are set in motion that will have lifelong ramifications.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fred meticulously boxed up the last of the things that he didn’t want to leave in his dressing room unattended for the next two weeks until he began rehearsals for “Top Hat” with Hermes. A knock on the door got his attention. </p><p>“Hi, Ginge!” He smiled happily at his dance partner and lover. She leaned against the doorway, looking cute in a pantsuit and light jacket. The weather had broken lately from the winter gloom and occasional moments of sunshine surprised everyone. Today was bright and sunny, and he’d taken the opportunity to visit the studio. “How’s the movie going?”</p><p>She had just started filming “Star of Midnight” with William Powell. He was nineteen years older than her, but they weren’t a romantic couple in this movie. It was actually a nice change for Ginger, playing an accomplice to a private investigator looking into a mystery. Bill had a great sense of humor and it was turning out to be a very nice working experience. Plus it was a very short shoot, only six weeks start to finish, and they’d started a week before Ginger had joined them. She would also get six days off before she had to start rehearsals on “Top Hat”. </p><p>“Oh, I’m having so much fun!” she gushed. Fred reined in a flash of jealousy. “Bill is wonderful to work with. I think I’m jealous of Myrna.”</p><p>Myrna Loy was an actress who had starred in a highly successful film with Bill a year ago, called “The Thin Man.” Rumor had it that they were getting a sequel and possibly a series. Ginger hoped that they got it. It was nice having friends and acquaintances shooting on the lot. </p><p>“Maybe I’m jealous of Bill,” he smirked. She slapped him on the shoulder playfully. Leaning against the wall, she watched him putter around the room.</p><p>Fred continued to pack up his personal items into a small box. He gestured towards her dressing room. “Are you still in your room? I heard a rumor that you were going to be moving to that building next to the production office.” </p><p>He didn’t know why the studio had decided to move Ginger out of the stage dressing rooms, but he had suspicions that their delight in one another had been noticed by the studio brass. On the other hand, Ginger was going to be very busy this year, doing five films all told. It would be a lot easier on everyone if she wasn’t switching dressing rooms for each movie. If she were in a stationary spot, she could come and go as she pleased. The little dressing room with it's own entrance, also had a reception area for an assistant (or interviews), its own kitchen and a bedroom with its own huge bathroom and dressing room area. She could stay in place and let Wardrobe and Make-Up (and Publicity etc.) come to her instead of running all over the lot on the various movies. It would be quite a time-saver.</p><p>“Yeah. I haven’t had time so far, they’re finishing the plumbing, but I’ll start moving stuff gradually next week.”</p><p>“Hmmm. It’s going to make it kind of awkward to come … visit.”</p><p>“Well, we’ll just have to establish early on that you’re … visiting often and we are ‘rehearsing’,” she laughed. “I know we have to be circumspect, but we get to set the ground rules, so it shouldn’t be that much of a problem.”</p><p>“Oh, Adele says goodbye and she’s sorry that she didn’t get to say so properly,” he said, changing the subject. It was true. That last day of the dance work had been crazy. They’d all expected to meet up for a celebratory dinner, within a day or two of wrapping, but it just hadn’t happened with Ginger off to her next movie and Hermes doing dance lessons for an actress on another film at MGM. It was a first for him, and he was devoting a lot of hours to the project. </p><p>“Ah, well, give her my love,” Ginger said, handing Fred a bottle of aftershave and his soap, brush and shaving cup. It was a favorite item of his, a gift from his mother Ann. </p><p>“I will.” He was all packed up now. Unfortunately, he hadn’t known that she would be here and he had a dentist appointment in an hour that he was barely going to make. He moved back into the main room and shrugged into his jacket. “I’ve got to run, cutie. I have an appointment. Can’t wait to see you in two weeks.”</p><p>She stood on her tippy toes to kiss him. “See you then. I miss seeing you every day.”</p><p>He walked to the door, and looked back at her. Standing in the spot of sunshine coming in through the high window, she looked illuminated like an angel. “I miss you, too.”</p><p>Picking up his box, he walked out and she locked the door behind them. As the entered the bright sunlight outside the stage, he watched her get onto her bicycle and pedal away to her new soundstage around the corner. For the next two weeks, he intended to keep himself so busy that he couldn’t think. </p><p>He was going to create beautiful dances for his beautiful partner and they were going to be on film forever. The thought cheered him and he tried to shake off his feeling of impending doom. </p><p>An out-of-breath production assistant caught him just as he was getting into his car. Handing him a package, the PA leaned over breathing heavily. “Mr. A! Script for you, sir. They said you were on the lot and I’m glad I found you.”</p><p>“Oh, thanks James. I appreciate your hustle.” The boy tipped his hat and walked away jauntily, happy with getting praise from the lead star actor.</p><p>Fred leaned against his car and thumbed through the script. “And they danced” was the phrase that caught his attention. No descriptions – entirely left up to him to fill in those details. What a gift.</p>
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